Suikoden 2: Silver Seductions
by Spiritblade
Summary: - M-Rating, ONE-SHOT, AU - Jeanne is a beautiful immortal whose sinful allure is one that few men can resist. And there is nothing more perilous than thinking oneself immune to her charms, as Flik will soon learn. - Complete! -
1. Chapter 1

_**Suikoden 2:Silver Seductions**_

_**Written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer:**_This story was inspired by Ninja Gaijin's H-fanfic 'Irresistible', and is linked to my GSD side-story (i.e.: GSD – Lost Memories, Side Fiery Sword: Wandering Angel chapter). I give my salute to Ninja Gaijin for creating an excellent story. Also, Suikoden 2 and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them.

And be forewarned: This story is an AU-original, one with which I have taken _considerable_ liberties during the course of its creation. The story is not set in the magic-medieval age of Suikoden 2, but in the far future when humanity rules vast swathes of the galaxy and dares any alien to challenge its right to rule the galaxy. Also, do take note, this is an erotic story. I needed practice, and this is my fourth (fifth?) attempt at the genre, so please have mercy on me. Sharpening this particular sword is by no ways easy…

All right, on with the story!

(O)

_**Andromeda Beta planetary system third planet, Tigris**_

_**Territory of the Federated States of Ashan, vassal country of the Shogunate **_

_**Castle Seraph, Headquarters of the Apostle Army, December 3548 A.D.**_

Castle Seraph hovered over the third planet of Andromeda Beta's third planet of Tigris like a vigilant angel, the light of a thousand stars bringing into sharp focus the modifications and repairs done to the old Ramilies-class star-fort by the rebel army that had taken up residence in its halls. Once, over thirty years ago, Castle Seraph had stood as an integral part of Tigris's orbital defence network, its guns and fleet of defence monitors an obstacle to any invader, human or otherwise. But Jeanne, Rune-mistress of Betelgeuse and one of the Apostle Army's twelve Technique Masters, knew Castle Seraph by another name, and remembered the handsome, powerfully-built Shogunate officer who had once commanded one of the its feared Dragon Fleets before he was exiled by the very people he had fought so hard to protect. Destiny, Jeanne's mentor and predecessor had once told her, was – is – a frightening thing, a force that the Almighty could barely control and never master. It was there long before He had commanded Light to illuminate Creation, long before the idea of _creating_ Creation was a seed in His mind. Destiny had seen to it that when the dream of a living, breathing, glorious Creation took root in the Almighty's mind, He would have the instruments in which to make it so.

27 Great Runes spun around the Almighty, each creating lesser versions that would, eons later, be wielded by the sons and daughters of His most beloved creation, before He spoke the words that would bring about the First Age of Creation. Each of the 27 Great Runes held in its symbolic symmetry a fundamental aspect of reality and incalculable power capable of splitting the Earth and the sky. But of all the 27 Great Runes, only the First Great Rune, the Rune of Beginning, would split in two. What had caused it to do so, no one save the Almighty knew. But what emerged from the separation were the Black Sword and the Bright Shield Runes. The first held the power to reduce mountains to rubble and crush entire armies, while the latter held the power to turn aside even the vast power of the Almighty and force Death to stay his hand.

In those twin runes was an idea made mighty by the same virtue that gave the Almighty His mandate to rule Creation. But, it was that same idea and virtue that would curse those who bore either Rune to a life of hardship and sorrow. How many have wielded the Black Sword and Bright Shield runes across the eons? How many have paid the price for the fulfilment of their dreams? Many, Jeanne knew, far too many to count.

Thirty years ago, the Bright Shield and Black Sword runes chose two friends to bear them. The first was the Shogunate General and commander of the 122nd Federated State Flotilla, Genkaku Hongo. The second was his friend, Han Cunningham, Champion of the Kingdom of Highland and Chapter Master of the White Wolves Knightly Order. Their masters swore fealty to the same Emperor, and have served him loyally on many occasions. But the long-standing feud between the Federated States of Ashan and Highland has caused the Dragon Emperor's Shin Angyo Onshi, the Secret Police of the Shogunate, and his ministers no end of grief. They have likened the two countries to two tigers living on the same mountain; neither would accept nor tolerate the presence of the other. Only in the face of a common enemy were the two countries willing to put aside their differences and work together, as was the case when the Orks chose an opportune time to attack when tensions between the Federated States and the Kingdom of Highland had escalated to a war. Jeanne remembered the devastation the Orks had caused, and the terrible suffering endured by the soldiers and citizens of both countries brought about because of the incapability of its leaders to wage a war (as was the case in the Federated States) or because its armies were stretched thin trying to stop a horde whose numbers far surpassed their own (as was the case with the Kingdom of Highland).

President Darell de Carleon, leader of the Federated States of Ashan and father of Annabelle de Carleon, was an excellent politician and lover, but he was no general. Had he relinquished military authority to one more capable, the Ork advance would never have made it as far into State territory as it had. If he had, Jeanne's opinion of him would have gone up several notches. But, Annabelle's father had been nothing if not vindictive and arrogant. He, like so many men and no few women in power, believed himself infallible. It was a mindset that almost saw to the Orks conquering Muse, the fourth planet of the Andromeda Alpha star-cluster and capital of the Federated States. Had Genkaku not disobeyed orders and returned to the planetary system, the planet would have fallen to the Orks.

The Aegis General, as Genkaku had been known then, brought his entire army – including his star-fort – to stop the Ork advance, leaving the State colony of Kyaro in the hands of a Highland admiral – an act that would later bring about his downfall. It had been a beautiful sight to behold. Over 200 ships of various classes and ten times as many Orbital Frames, LEVs and star-fighters had gated into the system, followed minutes later by the enormous star-fort as it emerged from the quantum rift that allowed it to travel from its original moorings above Tigris to Muse. The Orks knew the calibre of the human warlord who stood in their way; he was nothing like his master, whom they knew was cowering in a well-protected fortress somewhere on the planet (which was true, as Jeanne had been with Darell in said fortress when the Ork armada gated into the system). They knew that the one thing standing between them and victory was a man who would sooner cut his own throat than admit defeat. He was the kind of human the Orks made legends of. Taking him down would require monumental effort – and that was WITHOUT his friend, the Sword King of Highland, Han Cunningham, getting involved.

As Fate would have it, Han arrived minutes later at the head of a massive Highland armada at the rear of the Ork fleets. That was when Genkaku gave the order to attack, leading his army from the front and trapping the Orks between the hammer that was Han's forces and the anvil that was his. By the time the main Shogunate fleets had arrived, the war had already ended. The Orks – those that had survived Genkaku's trap – had retreated from the region, taking what booty and slaves they could secure.

What happened next reminded Jeanne why she had chosen to distance herself from the byzantine politics of nations and the ambitions of its rulers. She would watch a revered hero become a despised traitor, watch as those he had saved turn on him. She remembered Genkaku's expression as he strode towards the Highland ship that would carry him into exile. She remembered asking the exiled general why he had refused to draw his sword during his duel with Han; a duel that would decide whether the State colony of Kyaro, which Genkaku had left in the hands of a Highland admiral during the war against the Orks, would remain a dominion of the Federated States or become the Highland Kingdom's newest protectorate.

Genkaku was an intuitive man. He had sensed that she was more than human – and that she knew more about the 27 True Runes than those who spent lifetimes trying to uncover a truth that was as simple as it was complex. He had smiled, and told Jeanne that the fate bestowed upon the bearers of the Bright Shield and Black Sword runes was the one thing both he and Han were trying to avoid. For friends who were as close as brothers to raise arms against one another was an unforgivable crime. No, better to live in disgrace for doing the right thing than exalted in glory for doing evil, he had said before boarding the ship. It would take twenty years before the truth of the events that had led to Genkaku's expulsion from the Federated States became known.

By that time, it was far too late for the Federated States leaders and citizens to undo the wrong they had done to one of their own. And the fact that he had adopted two orphans – one boy and one girl – was the main reason why he had refused to return to the Federated States. Those two children would become the friends of a young noble of House Atreides who would often sneak off to watch them train, and who would be taken on trips to a densely-forested planet near to the colony to learn survival skills and the use of weapons.

But Fate refused to be thwarted. It desired the Rune of Beginning to be made whole, no matter the cost. Eons of conflict and sorrow between the two for the same dream had moved even the heartless, impartial force of Creation to action. Han and Genkaku had merely put off the confrontation by refusing to fight one another and sealing their runes, but their actions would doom two souls to do what they had been unable to. It was in the inferno of the Tenth Highland-State War that the Bright Shield Rune and Black Sword runes would clash for what may be the last time. The Dragon Emperor realized that the stars had commanded this war, and saw to it that the conflict between the Federated States and the Kingdom of Highland was contained in that region of space. The border fortresses and colonies of both countries soon came under the personal supervision of the Dragon Emperor's staff, even as the two vassal Shogunate states opened a Pandora's Box that all but unleashed the Four Horsemen onto the field.

Jeanne sighed. She had seen wars aplenty. The fact that she had participated in the Tenth Highland-State War would be but another footnote in her long life. The one thing that made it notable was that she was fighting under the boy Genkaku had adopted over a decade ago and who bore on his right hand the Bright Shield rune that his foster-father had borne over thirty years ago. Jeanne honestly liked the boy; he had the making of one who would be King. That made him a tasty morsel. But the rune-mistress was no fool. A good majority of the women in the Apostle Army knew of Jeanne's loose morals and made it clear that if she so much as looked at Shouren Hongo (or their husbands!) the wrong way, she would find herself thrown out the Castle's airlock.

The seductive, silver-haired rune-mistress giggled. The envy and possessiveness of said women was understandable. Shouren Hongo, son of Genkaku Hongo, was a prize catch. And which woman in her right mind would let such a man go without attempting to snare him or making sure the competition was knocked out of the game early on? Jeanne giggled: it would be fun to watch Shouren try to make a break for it, all the same. The boy was just as shy as Genkaku was when it came to women, but he would not have the luck of the latter when it came to getting away.

The silver-haired rune-mistress pulled her low-cut, scandalous robes back as she looked over her shoulder at her latest bed-mate who was hastily pulling his pants back on before the ship docked with the fortress. Her lips curved into a smirk, causing the young man behind her to redden. It would not do to be found by the small crew who accompanied him and the seductive rune-mistress to Tigris's capital of South Window to purchase much-needed medical supplies. He knew now why men had found Jeanne irresistible and why so many men had thrown caution and sense to the wind in order to earn her affections.

"You'd better hurry up, Kinnison," Jeanne said, her voice husky and melodious, "You wouldn't want to be caught with your pants down now, do you?"

X X X

Jeanne's ship, the _Silver Destiny_, was constructed in the shipyards of the Archangel Duchy at the behest of Prince Elrond over a century ago. It had been a gift to the seductive immortal who had not only guided him to his destiny, but who had also been his teacher in the arts of love. Should the ship need any repairs or upgrades, the Prince had told her prior to her departure, all she had to do was dock at any shipyard under his family's control, and it would be done. The _Silver Destiny_ was not a big ship; it was half the size of the _Corona _-class frigates that patrolled the region around Castle Seraph but possessed twice the weaponry and was protected not only by void shields, but by potent holo-fields that would wreck havoc with the sensor and weapon systems of any ship Jeanne or her five-woman gynoid crew deemed hostile.

Ever since the capital of the Federated States fell to Highland, the _Silver Destiny_ had fought in no less than twelve engagements against the Highland army, its speed and superior technology buying the remnants of the State Army time to regroup and retreat to Tigris. Its pulsar lances had crippled the flagship of General Kiba when the latter led his army to take the colonies of Two Rivers. The rune-mistress had disliked committing her ship to the battle, but she knew that standing aside was not an option. One does not give way to the evil; one confronted it.

Jeanne smiled and ran a hand over one of the wraith-bone statues that lined the corridor that led to the bridge of the _Silver Destiny_. She had crafted it two years ago, to honour a man whom she thought had died at the end of the First Crimson War. He had been the fiancé of the rebel leader who had led the led the Toran Liberation Army, Odessa Silverberg. The beautiful auburn-haired woman, once the general of the 125th Shogunate Dragon Fleet, had died trying to evacuate the inhabitants of a colony that the System Lord of the Scarlet Moon Grand Duchy, Emperor Barbarossa, had marked for destruction. That one act had been the spark that birthed an inferno. What had once been a localized insurrection quickly escalated into a regional conflict that forced the Dragon Emperor to send his armies into the region in an attempt to squelch it. Thousands died. Entire colony clusters were reduced to massive graveyards, and warriors who had once been allies in a hundred battles before the Liberation War (as it was called in the history books of the newly-christened Toran Republic) fought in vicious battles to the death. It was only after Odessa's lover approached the Dragon Emperor under a banner of truce – and at much personal risk – at the head of a Galactic Police and Shin Angyo Onshi delegation did the Royal Family of the Shogunate realize that the rebels of the Toran Liberation Army were justified in their rebellion. The atrocities committed by the System Lord of the Scarlet Moon Grand Duchy had caused the Dragon Emperor a great loss of face. The Dragon Emperor gave the Liberation Army representative his royal sword and his personal standard as a sign of his contrition and ordered his armies out of the Scarlet Moon Grand Duchy. Let Barbarossa, he had thundered, reap what he has sown.

It was a sad truth known to only the Toran Republic's highest echelons that the atrocities done by Barbarossa had been instigated by Windy, the Betelgeusian Technique Mistress who had been the aunt of the Liberation Army's supreme commander, Tir MacDohl. Using her considerable charms and intellect, she lodged herself in Barbarossa's heart and made him her puppet. She had desired the Soul Eater Rune – one of the 27 True Runes – that her nephew bore. With it, she thought, she could take revenge on those who had wronged her. Jeanne sighed and ran a hand down the statue's jaw. The fury and determination in its un-living eyes had been replaced by weariness, pain and regret in its living counterpart.

Why were mortals so weak? Why did they pursue that which they could never hope to gain or, in the case of the friend Jeanne had immortalized in stone, regain? Time and the Ashen King's scythe would undo all they had striven for and accomplished, whether good or evil. Few of them, if any, lived long enough to enjoy the fruits of their labours. Jeanne's hand slid down the statue's armoured chest to its hands, which clutched a well-crafted plasma sword similar to those wielded by the Knight Lords of Antares. A sword the beautiful rune-mistress had seen once before, over a thousand years ago, in the hands of the Solar Empire's first Sovereign. The weapon had been forged by the Master Artificers of the Archangel Duchy as a gift to celebrate the latter's ascension to the Solar Throne and was fashioned in the likeness of the Daiklave wielded by the winglies' fearsome War God. Over the many centuries and through the many masters that had wielded the royal sword of the Solar Emperor; rare indeed was the wielder that would give it a name not synonymous with the purpose for which it had been made.

The last she had heard of it, the sword had been wielded by one of the assassins of the Nanaya family to end the life of one of its own. The silver-haired rune-mistress shivered. The descendants of the beautiful True Ancestor Princess and her lover were the living, flesh-and-blood avatars of the Soul Eater Rune. Possessing powers and skills that defied rational explanation and illogical reason, the Nanaya clan was the one faction in all Creation the seductive immortal would stay far away from. The moment she stood in the presence of one, it would take much of their considerable will to rein in their instinctive desire to kill her.

Jeanne shook her head to clear her mind and whispered a prayer to the Creator Goddess. The Nanaya clan was not a pleasant topic to even _think_ of. Thinking of how she was going to seduce the living counterpart of the statue before her was another matter entirely. She grinned. It would not be easy, she knew. The man was so straight up and down that he could have supported the walls of the Shogunate Imperial Palace just by taking the place of one of its pillars. A man whose vices were few and far between and who the rune-mistress was certain had yet to drink deep from the chalice of passion. A good man who held dear in his heart and memory a woman – one Jeanne admired for her courage and compassion – who would never walk under the stars of Ashenvale ever again.

It was an irresistible challenge. Seducing Flik, the Lightning Knight of the Apostle Army, and teaching him the pleasures of the flesh – and breaking the hold that the ghost of Odessa Silverberg had on him – sent a shiver up her spine. She had seen the way he had looked at her and some of the women in Seraph Castle, the pent-up lust and desire turning his dark green eyes almost obsidian. Oh, there was a raging fury in the Lightning Knight that excited her, that she wanted turned on her. The thought of his thick, hungry seed ravishing her womb, of him subduing her to his will, breaking her and burning her in the crucible of lust and yearning, made the rune-mistress tremble and caused her hand to tighten around her ornate, jade staff.

Fate had seen that the sword once wielded by the Solar Empire's first Emperor would end up in the hand of a low-born Knight Errant of Antares many centuries later, one she would meet in the First Crimson War and who went missing in the days after it ended. Now, destiny would deliver him into her waiting arms – and this time, he would not be able to escape. Jeanne would not allow it. She kissed two fingers and pressed them against the statue's lips.

X X X

Flik was relieved that the mission to the Matilda Knightdom had gone as well as it had. He had half-expected the Apostle Army's young leader to have lost his temper in the aftermath of the massacre perpetrated by Luca Blight and the refusal of the Knightdom's ruler, Gorudo, to aid the Federated States – and the refugees fleeing the territories annexed by Highland days ago – in its greatest time of need. The fury in the young man's eyes had been staggering, but the disgust displayed by seven Chapter Masters of the Knightdom's Circle of Twenty was even more so.

In that one instant, the Knightdom lost over forty thousand men and women and over two hundred starships to the Apostle Army – easily almost a third of the Knightdom's armed forces. Gorudo had been furious, but could do nothing without alienating the rest of his generals. When Shu got word of the split within the Matilda Knightdom's armed forces, he knew it was only a matter of time before Highland did and took action. He wanted to deploy the Knights to the main theatre of war as soon as possible – something that could be done only after the logistics of housing, feeding an arming a forty thousand-strong army was done.

And as much as Apple and Shu wanted it otherwise, it was not something that could be done in one night. The brown-haired Antarian sighed. The doors to the tap-cafe hissed open, revealing its crowded interiors. One of Leona's waitresses, a pretty young girl of 19 years of age and a survivor of the siege of Muse, saw him and raised a hand in greeting, "Welcome back, Captain Flik!"

"Oh, hello Maria," Flik smiled, "I'll have my regular, thanks. And…" he looked at the menu display next to him, "and some sandwiches if you have any left. I'll be at my regular seat."

"Okay!"

Flik took his regular seat in the nearby alcove on the other end of the tap-cafe that would allow him his privacy and a view of its customers, most of whom he knew by name and had fought alongside. Normally, Viktor would be with him, but the big man had been sent to the planet below by Shu to handle matters with Tigris's planetary government. And knowing Viktor, he would be visiting the red-light district after he was done. Viktor had invited him, but the brown-haired Knight had turned his friend down. He was tired. And when he was tired, bad memories had a tendency to drag themselves out of the shallow graves from which they were buried.

Memories that took the shape of a beautiful, auburn-haired woman Flik had loved and watched die in the bloodiest days of the First Crimson War. He had blamed Tir MacDohl, son of Emperor Barbarossa's most trusted general, Teo MacDohl, for her death. The fact that Odessa had chosen to give the reins of leadership of the Toran Liberation Army to the son of its greatest enemy had been more than Flik could bear. It had taken him more than a year and the deaths of over three thousand warriors before he accepted Viktor's counsel and swore fealty to the young man who had won more battles against the Scarlet Moon Empire in one year than Flik's raiders could do on their own in ten.

The pain and anguish that Flik saw in Shouren, the young leader of the Apostle Army, he had seen mirrored in the eyes of Tir MacDohl two years ago. It was the pain of knowing that the enemy you are fighting against was one you knew by name and who had once sat across you as a friend, who guarded your back like a brother or who raised you high to the sky on the day you were born. Tir MacDohl found himself fighting against his father, a man regarded by half the Shogunate as one of the few generals who was deserving of the title of Supreme Shogun. The battles between the two had been vicious, and thousands had died as father and son waged a war that soon reduced an entire region of space into a ghost-haunted graveyard. Emperor Barbarossa was even rumoured to have said privately to his mistress, the Betelgeusian witch Windy, and his advisors that the staggering animosity between father and son made him regret not pursuing the diplomatic option with the leaders of the Toran Liberation Army.

The Second Crimson War would be a re-enactment of that nightmare. The only difference was that there would be no bargaining with the Kingdom of Highland; its Crown Prince was determined to destroy the Federated States once and for all and put all its citizens to the sword. Jowy Atreides and Shouren Hongo, two childhood friends as close as brothers, were now locked in a bitter struggle which could only end in one way.

'_Do the True Runes curse those whom they choose as their bearers?' _Flik pulled the gauntlets off his hands and put them on the table. On the back of his right hand was a Lightning rune, the thunderbolt sigil on it glowing crimson instead of blue, as if condemning him for the sins he had committed and would commit. The rune had once belonged to Odessa. Flik had instructed one of the Betelgeusian rune-masters within the Toran Liberation Army to transfer Odessa's Lightning Rune to him, an act that somehow corrupted it. Rather than the pristine, silver-white bolt of the element regarded as the Sword of God, the lightning that Flik unleashed was black on crimson, laden with malice and wrath – a demonic blade that could tear open reality and sunder Creation. He remembered what a Chaplain of one of the Kingdom of Antares's Knight Errant companies had told him: _'You have sinned, Flik of Antares, sinned greatly. The first time was when you foreswore your oath to both King and country. The second was when you accepted the tainted blessings of the Betelgeusian witches without the sanctification of the Cardinals of the Church. The first two crimes alone would have given you Chapter Master the sanction he needed to excommunicate you and have you hunted down like the heretic you are. Your third sin is your most damning crime. You wished to abandon your faith and wed into one of the pagan clans of Betelgeuse.'_

Flik's jaw tightened at the memory of the Chaplain's words. How could loving a woman like Odessa be a sin? How was choosing a better life outside of one bound in service to one's lord selfish when said lord was worse? The Chapter Master of the Knightly Order Flik had been part of had been a lecherous and corrupt individual, more concerned with his standing in the royal court than the men and women under his command who fought and died to defend the Kingdom from its many enemies. Flik turned to look at the defaced hurricane-and-talon sigil on his gauntlets – the symbol of the Astral Claws Knightly Order – and the spear and sun-burst symbol that was the sigil of the cadre the brown-haired Knight had been part of.

To look at his cadre sigil was to remember another nightmare – one that had haunted Flik for a decade. He had never told Odessa that he was one of the few who had survived the Eskellon Massacre. Eskellon had been an agricultural colony-cluster; its defences were limited to a dozen defence satellites, two orbital docks, five battlecruisers – one of which had been converted into a carrier - and two squadrons of defence monitors. The colony itself was defended by laser and mass driver cannons as well as a garrison of forty thousand. Of these, only a third – including the small company of Astral Claws Knights – had been professional soldiers. The rest were citizen militia, who served as regulars in Eskellon's CDF (1) for three years after their 18th birthday and who served a month out of every twelve after their official discharge from its ranks.

It had taken the Marduke Purgation Fleet less than a week to destroy the defences and ten days to crush its defenders and murder the citizens of Eskellon. Flik had escaped death only because he had been among the delegation sent to the Astral Claws Chapter Fortress to request aid when it became clear that the colony's defences were not up to the task of defeating the aliens. The disdainful look – and the dismissive manner – in which Flik's Chapter Master had regarded him and the Eskellon delegation had been the final nail in the coffin.

'_Are you telling me that the defences at Eskellon are insufficient, Sir Flik? I doubt it. I have put a squadron of battle-cruisers there, upgraded its defences and expanded its army – all at great personal cost. And you're telling me it is not enough?'_

"It was not enough…" Flik whispered to the ghosts of those he had failed to protect.

"What was not enough, Sir Flik?" a melodious voice broke the Lightning Knight out of his train of thought.

The brown-haired Antarian looked up to see a familiar face clad in an ensemble that would not have looked out of place in a high-class brothel on Tigris. It revealed a lush, strong body, one that would have driven even the most virtuous to drink deeply of sin and relish the taste of freedom. Light green eyes, many shades lighted than Flik's, regarded him with a wisdom that had seen the passing of centuries and all the foibles and strengths of the human race. Hands that have wielded power beyond the dreams of the Librarian Masters of the Knightly Orders and the Battle-mages of the Antarian Royal Army were adorned with jewel-inlaid armlets and rune-engraved bangles, all of which bespoke of the woman's high rank within Betelgeuse's Sorceress Council.

Flik knew the woman who stood next to him. She had many names, all of which bespoke of her incredible beauty and her wealth of experience in the arts of love and magic. Intelligent yet flighty, kind and enigmatic, sinful yet chaste, Jeanne of Betelgeuse was a contradiction – and a mystery – men would sell their souls to unravel and understand. But Flik knew that to _know_ Jeanne was impossible. There was something to her that defied logic and understanding.

And one does not delve into secrets a friend kept. That would be rude.

'_Not,'_ his mind whispered treacherously, _'that manners would keep the Seductive Angel from unearthing yours…'_

"Jeanne," Flik coughed, trying to hide the redness in his cheeks, "What are you doing here?"

The silver-haired enchantress giggled, "Looking for you, actually. What? Is it wrong for two old friends to get together? It's been a while since we had a chat, Flik."

A part of Flik told him to get away from this beautiful predator as soon as was humanly possible without offending her. He was about to mouth an excuse, but Maria's return with his order quickly killed any hope of a swift escape. The smirk that curved Jeanne's lips told the brown-haired knight that she knew of his attempt to escape, as well as his reason for doing so. The fearless Lightning Knight was afraid of her. It was not the fear borne of the knowledge that she could defeat him in battle that made him want to flee, but that she was a threat to the morals that was a fundamental part of his self-identity.

It pleased Jeanne to know that she could affect the unflappable Flik as she did all the men that crossed her path. She turned to the waitress behind her, "Maria, dear. A bottle of Betelgeusian wine, if you would…" and paused briefly, "And two glasses. Flik and I have much to talk about."

Flik could almost hear Satan laughing.

X X X

Jeanne strode up the road that led to the building that served as both her shop and her domicile on Castle Seraph, a quiet melody spilling from her lips. The conversation with Flik had gone well. Though uncomfortable at first, the latter had gradually opened up and revealed what he had been doing in the past two years. He and Viktor had found employment in the army of the Federated States and had been given command of one of the smaller _Nova_-class star-forts in the region close to the Highland border. The fact that Viktor had known Annabelle, the daughter of the late President Darell de Carleon, might have had something to do with their immediate appointment to garrison commanders, the brown-haired Knight had added with a wry smile.

The silver-haired rune-mistress knew all too well why Annabelle de Carleon was drawn to Viktor. The big man's boyish charm and roguish behavior made him immensely popular amongst the men he led, the women who adored him and the children who worshipped him. The dark-haired man had a heart as big as the Kingdom of Antares and a sense of humor an Ork would appreciate. Viktor represented the heart and drive to live life to its fullest.

And he was a passionate lover. His sheer endurance would put an Ork's to shame. Jeanne would willingly put money on the wager that Viktor could drive a female Ctarl-Ctarl into her grave long before his stamina gave out. And speaking of the fiercely proud and beautiful Lycans, here came one, no doubt looking for her intended mate: Nina Edelweiss (2). A senior in the Greenhill Academy and a member of its Emerald Valkyrie Brigade, the wolf-eared brunette was wearing her school uniform and robes. The young Ctarl-Ctarl had met Flik when the latter, along with the Apostle Army's leader and a handpicked group of his companions, infiltrated the Academy on a mission to find the missing Theresa Wisemail, the Headmistress of the Academy and the elected State governor of the colony-cluster. Much to Flik's chagrin, Nina had fallen for him at first sight and had followed him to Castle Seraph, hell-bent on ensuring that no other woman sank her claws into her mate before she did.

The silver-haired rune-mistress remembered what Viktor had told her, and could not help but agree. Flik's days as a bachelor are numbered. Female Ctarl-Ctarl were known for their doggedness when it came to securing their mates and expanding their brood. And Nina's tenacity was exceptional. It was only a matter of time before the Lightning Knight held his firstborn in his arms. The fact that Nina was physically attractive and well-endowed did much to pave the road to that particular conclusion.

'_Take a number and stand in line, little girl. Your man is mine…'_ she smirked.

"Miss Jeanne, have you seen Sir Flik? He's not in his room…" the girl's long, furry tail swayed from side to side in worry.

"He's in the tavern, Miss Nina."

"Thanks!" the girl walked towards the building.

"But I would advice leaving him alone for now…" the rune-mistress added.

The female Ctarl-Ctarl stopped, "Why?"

Jeanne turned her eyes to the sea of stars that shone beyond the protective armored glass that covered the entire district, remembering what Flik had shared with her, "Because tonight is the night he honors the woman he would have married if she had not died in the First Crimson War."

Nina's eyes widened, "What?! He…"

"Yes, Nina, he did. And I think it is time you learnt more about the man you have chosen to be your mate," Jeanne replied, her playful tone and words dispelling the bleak atmosphere in an instant, "Come with me. Some things are best shared _sub-rosa _and over a drink."

X X X

"Hello, Flik. How are your wounds?" Jeanne looked up to see Flik walking towards her. The brown-haired Antarian Knight's movements were stiff, bespeaking of injuries that had yet to heal. The last time the rune-mistress and the Knight had shared a drink had been the night prior to the ambush that had led to the death of Highland's Crown Prince – and that had been four days ago.

Jeanne shivered at the memory of the battle. Luca Blight had been a monster, the likes of which was born once every ten generations. It had taken every trick the master strategist of the Apostle Army had to isolate the Crown Prince of Highland and destroy him. But the price of doing so had been high: over a thousand lives had been lost and over three dozen ships sunk by the hand of the Prince alone. The young leader of the Apostle Army and those he had chosen as part of the group tasked to killing the Mad Prince of Highland were badly injured in the battle.

But it had been worth it. With the death of Luca Blight, an armistice between Highland and the Federated States was possible. Now, all that remained was for Shu and the rest to work out the details of the peace treaty and who to send to meet the Highland delegation. As it was, much of the Apostle Army was out in the streets of Castle Seraph's recreational districts or down on Tigris, celebrating an impossible victory – one they had rightfully earned.

"I'm fine," Flik said as he settled himself on the chair, "As is Nina. I'll never look at that silly girl the same way again. Damn it, three straight shots from Luca Blight's bloody force-blade and she still refused to go down! Not even Viktor could take that without seeing stars."

"That girl loves you, Flik," Jeanne poured Flik a glass of wine, "Nothing wrong with wanting to protect the one you love. Just because you failed once with Odessa does not mean you will fail with Nina."

"Viktor said the same thing," Flik said a minute later after downing it.

"Oh…? The Bear is smarter than I gave him credit for…" the rune-mistress smirked.

"And he said…" Flik hesitated, turning to look at the celebrating soldiers within the tap-café, "He told me that I should be careful of you."

Jeanne laughed inwardly, _'Oh, trying to save him now, are you, Viktor?'_

The rune-mistress leaned forward, allowing the brown-haired Knight to see her cleavage and the lithe body that has tempted King and Cardinal alike, "Do you think I'm dangerous, Flik?"

It took a long time for Flik to answer, "…yes."

Jeanne stood up and moved to Flik's side, the grace and the speed with which she had moved catching the latter by surprise. Poetry and words failed to capture the elegance in which the Seductive Angel had shown. No martial artist or dancer born in Creation would ever be able to compare to the silver-haired immortal that now stood poised to devour the mortal she had lured into her trap. Ah, the purity was his soul, the strength of his convictions and the raging hunger that threatened to taint the first and break the chains of the second…it was a beautiful thing to see. Jeanne grinned at the shocked look on her companion's face before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her. The sheer sensation of being held close to the lush body of the silver-haired rune-mistress all but caused Flik's thought processes to short-circuit and his heart-rate to skyrocket.

"Jeanne, what…?" Flik's perplexed voice was cut off when Jeanne kissed him. It was not a tender, chaste kiss, but one fierce and possessive. One, Jeanne's perverse side noted with glee, that the man in her arms was slowly returning. His callused hands touched her bare skin, the contact alone making her shiver with the promise of what was to come.

'_You are already mine…'_

X X X

Viktor watched what was taking place from a quiet corner, a big grin on his face as he exchanged a knowing look with Leona. The dark-haired proprietor of the tap-café, _Leona's Tower_, was looking at the extremely public display of affection with a shocked look before turning back to the big man who had his hand out.

"I win. Now pay up, girl," the big mercenary said.

Leona glared at him, the grin on Viktor's face making the dark-haired woman reach for the shock maul she kept under the counter for her rowdier customers, "Not yet. Flik…"

"Is done for," Viktor finished, "Leona, this is the Jeanne we're talking about, not some high-class courtesan from Lord Tyraneth's escort agency. She can make a mountain move just by asking it to. If the woman in our bet had been Nina or Valeria, I would have held off collecting my winnings until I had proof that they had done the mambo. But not with Jeanne; with her, it's not a matter of if, but when."

Leona made a displeased sound, "And what do you think Nina will do when she finds out? Or Valeria, for that matter…?"

Viktor chuckled, "Leona, Leona. Didn't you hear what I said earlier? Flik is doomed. He would need God's personal intervention to get his neck out of the noose he has shoved it into. Though I would seriously doubt He would want to intervene in what is about to happen…"

"I think you'll be the one needing it if Nina, Valeria or Oulan find out what you've done behind their backs, Viktor," the woman replied as she watched the smirking rune-mistress leave a shell-shocked Flik trying to understand what had just taken place.

_To be concluded…_

_Author's annotations_

Whew! Writing this story was a harder than I thought. I doubt that this is going to be up to the same level (and temperature) as my WarCraft 3 fanfic, '_Stars under Ashenvale_', but I will do my best. Tell me, did I portray the characters in this story (i.e.: Flik, Nina and Jeanne) well, despite my tinkering with them?

Chapter 2 will be up ASAP. Also, do tell me how this first chapter went. It would help greatly to know if I somehow did it right (or shot my own sorry backside) in my making it.

1) CDF – Colony Defence Force.

2) Yes, in this story, Nina (or Nina Edelweiss, as I named her) is a Ctarl-Ctarl and is slightly older than her original persona. I was inspired particularly by a cosplayer who dressed up (or who was severely lacking in it) as Horo from 'Spice and Wolf'. She radiated a primal, strong beauty that gave Horo her whimsical, playful, _earthly_ personality. Though I do not know your name, girl, I will tell you that you have done well.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Suikoden 2: Silver Seductions **_

_**Chapter 2 – Destiny's due**_

_**Written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer:**_This story was inspired by Ninja Gaijin's H-fanfic 'Irresistible', and is linked to my GSD side-story (i.e.: GSD – Lost Memories, Side Fiery Sword: Wandering Angel chapter). I give my salute to Ninja Gaijin for creating an excellent story. Also, Suikoden 2 and its characters do not belong to me. I am simply borrowing them in the creation of this tale.

**And be forewarned:** This story is an AU-original, one with which I have taken _**considerable**_ liberties during the course of its creation. The story is not set in the magic-medieval age of Suikoden 2, but in the far future when humanity rules vast swathes of the galaxy and dares any alien to challenge its right to rule the galaxy. **Also**,**do take note that this is an erotic story**. I needed practice, and this is my fourth (fifth?) attempt at the genre, so please have mercy on me. Sharpening this particular sword and mastering this genre is by no ways easy…

All right, on with the story!

**(O)**

_The face of sin is that of virtue released from its chains;_

_And her eyes gaze longingly at the object that had stirred her hunger,_

_Yearning to devour it whole and sate a thirst that had endured the ages._

_The Hierophants speak of virtue's rewards and vice's deceit;_

_And reinforce their dogma with admonishment and rebuke;_

_Yet at the end, soon learn that their wisdom is but a cage of their own making._

_- Scarlet and Silver__,_ by Jeanne of Betelgeuse.

Reprinted in C.E. 52; Red House Publishing, Earth.

**(O)**

_**Andromeda Beta planetary system third planet, Tigris**_

_**Territory of the Federated States of Ashan, vassal country of the Shogunate **_

_**Castle Seraph, Headquarters of the Apostle Army, January 3548 A.D.**_

Flik thanked God that Leona's tap-cafe was open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. After the mission he and Viktor had undertaken, a drink – a lot of drinks – was in order. The big man behind him was sullen and quiet, indicating that what he had seen on the secret Highland research lab had gotten to him. The tap-cafe was full of people, and the brown-haired ex-Antarian Knight could see that many of those that had participated in the mission earlier were either nursing their drinks with thunderous expressions or downing them at speeds that would crack the hull of a Star Destroyer in short order. Shu had issued a gag order to Flik and everyone who had been on the Avernus research facility. It was unnecessary. No one was going to talk. No one wanted to even THINK about what they saw.

Luca Blight was dead, but those who had embraced his vision of putting the State to the sword and the torch yet remained. Flik and Viktor had come across one such individual, a geneticist whose name was reviled in the community he was once part of. The man's name was Ma Cheng-Yen. Commanded by Luca to create super-soldiers that would be able to defeat a force many times their number, the geneticist had spliced the human genome with those of the Zerg and other alien races. The end result was a creature both beautiful and deadly, a far cry from the infested humanoids Flik had killed in his years as a Knight of Antares. The Horned Ones, as the scientist had called his creations, would do what the Mad Prince of Highland could not: obliterate the Apostle Army and destroy the State.

But he would not live to see it. Viktor had gunned him down before he could say another word. But the tough – and fanatical – bastard managed to release two of his Horned Ones from stasis before he expired. Flik shivered, remembering the psychic scream of fury that the two demonic angels had unleashed, remembered how they turned their inhuman eyes on him and how they had flexed their talons in anticipation of the kill. He remembered how fast they had moved and how easily they had torn through the powered combat suits worn by Viktor's Assault Marines. Eight Marines had died before Flik and Viktor managed to bring down the two Horned Ones. General Kiba, upon being appraised of the situation, ordered the assault teams off the base and unleashed his battleship's payload of nuclear bombs on the station – but not before giving Apple the time she needed to hack into the research facility's data-core and retrieve details regarding the projects the Mad Prince's supporters had been working on. That had been risky, what with the Horned Ones running amok and killing everything that looked human.

What Apple found would shock and horrify Flik and his compatriots. Project Apocalypse Chime was Luca Blight's bid to bring the Shogunate under his rule – and purge of the unworthy. There were four parts to the project. Two – namely the Horned One and Stormy Angel Projects – focused on weapons development. One focused on harnessing the power of the True Rune – the Beast Rune, if Flik remembered correctly – that had been given to the Blight Royal family in the days after the Kingdom of Highland seceded from the Holy Kingdom of Harmonia. The last was an impossible task – but one which could be accomplished if one knew and was willing to pay for the services of a group called the _Ka'lashi_. Flik had only heard of these individuals – and only in whispers – from his friends within the Galactic Police. The ranks of the group were replete with men and women of all races for whom power and knowledge was everything and the laws and ethics of their kind less than nothing. The Highland hardliners wanted the _Ka'lashi_ to resurrect the Mad Prince, something which caused Flik and his friends no small amount of horror. Everyone remembered how difficult it had been to kill Luca Blight. Hundreds of soldiers gave their lives so that a monster could be slain. Even their leader, a young man who should be worrying about his first date rather than the fate of a nation on the verge of falling, had suffered grievous wounds in the aftermath of the titanic duel with the Mad Prince. Those who had been there had no wish to see a repeat of that fight. Especially Shu – the unflappable Chief Strategist had turned whiter than his robes when he got word that Shouren had collapsed and lost his lunch the moment he got a firsthand view of the wounds Luca had inflicted on the young man.

Flik knew that the moment Shu got wind that there was a chance Luca Blight would come back, he would lose his temper. And he did. Shu had imposed a gag order on everyone who had been on the mission. He needed time to go over what it was Apple and the others had found before deciding on a course of action. The icy look in Shu's eyes told Flik just what form that 'course of action' would take: the barrage Kiba had his warship unleash on the Horned One research facility would look like a gunfight.

"Hey, Flik, you okay?" Viktor's voice broke Flik out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," the brown-haired Antarian replied, "You?"

"I need a drink. Lots of it," the big man replied as he unbuckled his sword-belt and swung the heavy weapon over his shoulder, "And if I'm still standing, I'll take the fastest shuttle down to Tigris's red-light district and give the girls at Madam Shirley's a run for their money."

Flik did not reply. Viktor was trying to drown his sorrows with two of his favorite vices: wine and women. The brown-haired ex-Antarian Knight had seen his friend like this only a handful of times, and each time it had been after a very traumatic incident. He put a hand on the big man's shoulder, and asked if the latter wanted time alone. Viktor hesitated briefly, before nodding.

"Sorry, man. It's just that…"

"I know," Flik cut him off, "I know. We just went through hell, Viktor. And you're handling it better than me. I think I'm going soft."

"You…?" Viktor snorted, "Going soft? The man who took the worst the Scarlet Moon Empire could throw at him and ask for seconds, soft? The man who actually made that asshole general resort to extreme measures to take a fortress whose garrison was outnumbered by his army ten to one and whose orbital defense network is decades out of date, soft? No, Flik – if you're going soft, you're going soft in a good way. And there're a score of people I want to thank for that. Around them, I've seen you smile and laugh. I can see you forgiving yourself for what happened to Odessa, and I can see you as you will be twenty years from now. One day, man, you'll be doing the things I've always wanted to do, but no longer have a chance to."

Flik chuckled as he took the bait, "And that'll be?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Viktor replied with a brief grin, before walking down the steel steps to the nightclub's main floor and leaving his friend on his own. He turned his attention to the dimly-lit alcove where he had seen Jeanne and Rina sitting. The silver-haired rune-mistress had been talking to her dark-haired counterpart about something, but both had stopped talking the moment the first had caught sight of him. Viktor nodded a greeting to the rune-mistress and jerked his head in Flik's direction, an unspoken request that she – and Rina, if possible – take care of his friend while he let off some steam.

**X X X**

Flik unbuckled his sword-belt and sat down at his and Viktor's regular table. It wasn't long before one of Leona's waitresses approached his table and took his order, before returning several minutes later with them. He barely got a bite out of Leona's famed onion soup and bread set before his palm-top chimed, the familiar Imperial March tune telling him that Shu had another job for him. The brown-haired officer sighed; the Chief Strategist of the Apostle Army could be a tyrant at times.

"Imperial March?" a familiar, playful voice caused Flik to look up to see Jeanne and Rina standing over his table, "that's a classic."

"Jeanne? Rina…? What are the two of you doing here?"

The dark-haired Betelgeusian gypsy smiled saucily, "Jeanne and I were having a…talk. She wanted something only my clan back on our home-world could offer, and I wanted something she had. But that aside, do you mind if Jeanne and I join you for a drink, Sir Flik?" and raised a bottle of Betelgeusian brandy.

"Sure," Flik indicated the empty chairs, "But you'll have to wait until I finish eating."

The two women pulled out the chairs and sat down, before proceeding to ask him how the mission Shu had sent him and a dozen others on had gone. One part of Flik warned him to obey Shu's command, but another part told him that it would be pointless trying to hide anything from two women before him. And if he tried to lie, they would know even before he finished the first sentence. But how did they know about the mission? It was a covert operation, one known only to five people in the Apostle Army's command echelon – and none of them were known to have loose tongues. So that could only leave the rank and file men, which would be impossible. None of them had known about the mission's details till they were hours away from the station, and the survivors of the some two hundred soldiers Shu had sent to attack the Highland research facility were sullen and quiet on their return. They had seen all the devils of Hell hot on their heels and saw the terrible strength and fury they had brought to bear on mortal men. Many had asked on the way back to Castle Seraph if there was another station – or stations – like Avernus. If there were, the Apostle Army would face a terrible adversary in the near future.

"Flik…?"

"I'm not surprised that you two found out about the mission Shu sent us on," Flik's voice was rough, "But I will have to ask you to not ask me – or anyone else, for that matter – about it. Yes, we found something on Avernus. And that something had cost us the lives of many good men and women. A dozen of those…things almost wiped out four companies of Marines."

Rina and Jeanne exchanged startled looks. Next to the Knights of Matilda under the command of Camus and Miklotov, the Marines of the Apostle Army were among the most heavily armed and armored. Equipped with sturdy powered combat suits, gauss rifles and chain-swords, they could hold back a force many times their number – especially when they were equipped with heavy weapons such as rocket launchers and reaper cannons. And Flik was telling them that a dozen monsters had done what a Highland brigade could not.

"What were they? The 'things' you faced?" Rina asked.

"I'll get to that. What's more interesting than the monsters I faced was the man who created them. Are you two familiar with an ex-Galactic Police scientist known as Ma Cheng-Yen? The one that had been part of the GP's Bio-soldier Development Division and was expelled some years later for stepping over the line?"

"Yes. I heard about him – and what he had done to the Beta-7 Colony cluster. Didn't he die?" the dark-haired Betelgeusian gypsy took out her deck of tarot cards from her sash, and started shuffling them. She began putting the first three cards on the table, shuffled the deck again and put four more around the first three.

"Well," Flik dipped the chunk of bread into his soup, "He wasn't as dead as everyone thought he was. Quite the opposite, actually; Luca Blight had clearly found the Professor's skill set useful for whatever it was he had in mind at the time and took steps to…acquire him. It appears that Luca was interested in creating super-soldiers that were better than the ones fielded by the GP. And Professor Cheng-Yen succeeded in giving him that. Had we failed to take down Luca or had his patience won out over his desire to destroy us, we would have found ourselves up to our necks in Horned Ones."

Jeanne looked at Flik over the rim of her wineglass, "Horned Ones? He called them that?"

"Yes. The project was named after them."

"I see," the rune-mistress smiled enigmatically as she sipped her drink, her eyes gazing across the decades to a time when she had first met the young man who would become a monster in order to pursue a star he could never reach, "Tell me, Flik. What did they look like?"

Flik hesitated, remembering the Horned One he had come across when he and Viktor had been briefly separated. He remembered the beautiful, silver-haired demonic angel that had been in the midst of slaughtering the Highland Marines, its scaled talons tearing open reinforced plasteel like it were paper. Several of said Marines wore the colors of Luca's White Wolves, indicating that this particular section of the research facility had been devoted to the creation of a monster mightier – and physically more pleasing – than its lesser siblings. Unfortunately, unlike the Horned Ones who had immediately set about killing anything not wearing the colors of Highland, the Horned Lord – for it was clearly stronger than its lesser kin by leaps and bounds – turned on its guardians and creators the moment they released it from cryo-stasis.

"Terrifying," the brown-haired Apostle Army general replied, even as the memory how the malice and cruelty in that beautiful monster's light green eyes dimmed upon seeing him, "And beautiful. They reminded me of the Gears from the Century of Legends."

Rina placed the last two tarot holo-cards on the table, and her eyes took on a distant cast unlike the one that had been on her silver-haired counterpart's face moments before, "You met their queen, did you not, Flik?"

"Huh…?"

Jeanne smiled inwardly, leaned back in her chair and allowed Rina to take over the conversation. This should be interesting, the silver-haired woman thought. It was rare to see one of the Seers of her home-world at work, and each observed a set of rituals that allowed them to see what was written on the Book of Thoth. The past, the present and the future – all of it was written on the pages of a tome as old as time, in a book said to be as old as Creation, in a language said to predate the star ocean. The Messianic religions called the Book of Thoth the Book of Life, its first words penned in the springtime of Creation by the Almighty. But the secrets of Time and Creation were guarded jealously by the powers that be, Jeanne knew. And they revealed only what they wanted to reveal.

"You met an enemy who bore the face of a woman you are starting to love…" Rina flipped over the first card in the formation, and the card shimmered briefly before revealing the form of a silver-haired female devil, scantily-clad before a silk and fur-draped throne over which an ornate, iron-wrought skull of a goat hung. On all fours like a stalking tigress, the female devil spread its black, feathered wings wide as she looked up at Flik with the same lustful yet gentle expression that he had seen on the Horned Lord's face.

Jeanne raised an eyebrow at this. A woman Flik was starting to love? Did someone get ahead of her? There were at least half a dozen women within the Apostle Army who were close to Flik. One was sitting right across her, her dark-honey brown eyes now a soft shade of molten silver, matching the elegant, sinuous sigils on her face. Another, her honey-blonde hair cascading down her shapely body, sat at the table nearest to the bar counter next to her friend and rival. Valeria Essenheim, commander of the Toran Republic army contingent in Castle Seraph, was a friend of both Flik and herself. She had fought beside the two of them during the First Crimson War and had been elevated by its president to commander of the 12th Sector Army.

Nearby, exchanging jokes and stories with Rikimaru and a dozen of the Apostle Army's Tagers, was Oulan Nanaya, daughter of a family few would dare challenge even if they had an army behind them. Curvaceous and strong, with a personality that reminded the silver-haired rune-mistress of the sun, the auburn-haired martial artist had taken to Flik the moment the two had met. And knowing what she did of the Nanaya clan, Jeanne knew that the terrible, beautiful Beast that writhed deep in Oulan's soul was determined to make the brown-haired ex-Antarian Knight hers.

Second to last was Karen Ibn Douta, the dancer who had worked in one of the Kuskus colony's most frequented nightclub, the Crescent High Club. Born and raised in the Caliphate, the dark-haired girl had been a student of the courtesan Fatimah Ibn Azan, who herself had been trained by Jeanne to be King Abdullah's companion. The alluring mother of its current Crown Prince had done her work well. Such was Karen's skill and exotic looks that her employer in the Crescent High nightclub had been forced to hire three bodyguards to ensure her safety. When word reached the man that the Highland fleet was closing in on Kuskus, the man had put Karen on the first ship off the colony. Said ship had belonged to the Apostle Army, which had been under Flik's command and had docked at Kuskus to pick up an arms shipment from the Toran Republic. Karen was a mischievous but gentle soul who took great delight in teasing the stoic and the stern. Few could ever remain angry at the dancer for long, as they knew she meant well.

Last on the list was Nina Edelweiss, the female Ctarl-Ctarl who had fallen for Flik when he and Lord Shouren had infiltrated Greenhill Academy in order to find the colony's missing mayor (and the school's) headmistress. Her devotion and determination were formidable things. Had there been a wager of which of the five women would be the first to bear Flik's child, Jeanne would put her considerable fortune on Nina beating all of them to the punch. The rune-mistress's decision to reveal Flik's past to the girl may have been a misstep on her part, but it was one that had served to weaken the defenses the ex-Antarian Knight had raised around his heart. Odessa's death was a tragedy, but it should not be an obstacle to his finding happiness.

Jeanne turned her gaze on the cards laid out in a solar formation around the three cards that represented Flik. She frowned. Death stood above the twin cards of the Four of Swords, which represented Compassion, and the Nine of Cups, which represented to fulfillment of one's wishes. Brown-haired tumbled from the heavy hood that the Ashen Queen (as was the case when the Reaper took a feminine aspect) and over her curvaceous but lean frame. Clad in form-fitting, master-worked armor and clutching an equally ornate scythe in one hand, the representation of one of the universe's primal forces radiated power surpassing even that of Jeanne's. The Ashen Queen glanced briefly at Jeanne and nodded in greeting before turning to look up at Flik, her ruby lips curved in a smile as she raised one armored talon to him, palm upwards. The meaning was unmistakable. Fate would grant Flik his dearest wish, but would demand his life in recompense.

The Devil card that represented the rune-mistress was ablaze with fury. The Strength Card that represented Oulan coiled with defiance. The High Priestess holo-card which represented Rina herself had her hand gripping her staff of office tightly, her once-serene expression filled with sorrow. The Empress card that represented Valeria glared at Death with imperious disdain. The Star card that represented Karen blazed brightly, as if to break the unconquered darkness that Death brought it its wake. And the Justice card, which represented Nina, looked at Death and shook her head. But the Reaper would not be swayed.

"All is as God wills it," Rina's voice caused both Flik and Jeanne to look at the smiling, dark-haired gypsy, "When your dearest wish is granted, the light of the Unconquered Sun will bless you for one last time, and it will all come to an end."

**(O)**

**_Apostle Army barracks, Machanon Sector, Officers' Wing, Flik's quarters_**

**_A day later…_**

Flik let out a long breath and studied the report on the holo-screen before him. Rina's words had haunted the brown-haired general throughout the meeting that Shu had held just hours before. It had made concentrating on matters difficult, to say the least. He was thankful that Klaus, having been his father's aide for over two decades, had taken down the points Shu and Apple had raised during the meeting and put them down on minutes so that those who had not been present would be able to peruse them at a later time. Flik scowled; Viktor had been smart enough to switch off his palm-top before entering Leona's tap-cafe. Had he done the same, he would have been able to spend more time in Jeanne's company.

He froze. Where had that thought come from? Where in the name of all that was holy did that thought come from? Spend more time in Jeanne's company? Spend more time in the presence of a woman who was more dangerous than a dozen Horned Ones combined? What was wrong with him? Death had a thousand blades in his armory, and he had to go choose the one that a thousand Princes would trade soul and kingdom for. He shivered as the image of the holo-card representing Jeanne took shape in his mind, promising him freedom and a path through the darkness if he only submitted to her.

Was he willing to forsake the oath he had sworn over Odessa's grave? No, there was no grave. The colony Odessa had died trying to save had been blasted to atoms, along with her body. There was nothing to bury. All there was left were memories that were slowly starting to fade. Flik put down the glass that had been filled with the strong spirits Nina had brought him. The young woman had been waiting for him outside his quarters. He had half-expected her to ask him to accompany her down to Tigris, but she had come out from the left field and asked him if he would mind joining her for a drink. It was, she had told him, her twentieth birthday, and she had been looking for someone to celebrate it with. Flik turned an affectionate gaze on the slumbering Nina, who was lying in the sofa next to him. She was clad in the traditional garments of her race, which revealed a considerable amount of skin and emphasized the curves of her athletic body. Her long, bushy tail was draped affectionately over his lap, and a she purred softly whenever he ran her hands through it.

He remembered what Viktor and Jeanne had told him weeks before. Just because he had failed Odessa did not mean he would fail Nina or the any of the other women who wanted a place in his life. Flik leaned back against his chair, and closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion that he had kept at bay to overtake him.

**X X X**

Flik knew that he was dreaming.

There was no way he could be on Arjuf, which was located deep within the Toran Republic, over a hundred light-years away. And there was no way that the enormous edifice outlined in the moonlight could be Castle Athena, which had once been the Toran Liberation Front's strongest military enclave outside of its headquarters in New Haven. Its formidable defences waited for an enemy that would never come, manned by scores of warriors who had long ago crossed the River Styx. Flik had fought in the Siege of Castle Athena. He needed only to close his eyes to recreate that image of Hell on Earth, of that inferno that had been the funeral pyre of a hundred thousand brave, defiant souls. He remembered the fierce gun-battles that had raged within the city that had been located below the mesa on which Castle Athena had been located. He remembered the heavily-armoured and armed Combat Frames of the Scarlet Moon Grand Duchy duelling with the lighter and more agile Assault Suits of the TLF. He remembered how the sky burned and how angels fell from the skies with their wings on fire. He remembered fighting harder than he had ever fought, his plasma sword sizzling with the blood of those he had slain, and of the torn bodies of both friend and foe.

Castle Athena had been an impossible, historic victory. But Flik felt no pride in having survived it. He had lost many trusted friends that day, some of whom had renounced their oaths to the Kingdom of Antares when they found that the men whom they believed to be the epitome of chivalry and honour were nothing more than egocentric fops who had won their thrones by dint of their lineage and not their deeds. At least Emperor Barbarossa, ruler of the now-fallen Scarlet Moon Archduchy, had built his kingdom with his own hands, carving the heart and the frontiers of his domain for over five decades until despair and pain changed him into a monster that needed to be put down.

"_I was a foolish man. I had hoped power would fill the void she left behind. The High Lord of Lordaeron warned me thus, and I ignored him. I heeded the words of your aunt, Tir McDohl, and reached for that not meant to be wielded by mortal men – or women, for that matter. But you, the son of my most trusted general – you will not make my mistake. You will right my wrongs. I, like your father, have faith in you. I will, with my own hands, remove the last two obstacles from your path."_

He remembered the look on the face of the Scarlet Moon Emperor and his witch in the seconds before they died. The first looked like the man he had been decades before his wife died, proud and strong, a King in all but name. The second was despairing and fearful, her schemes undone by a child half her age, embittered by the fact that the man who held her in his powerful arms loved the woman she could never hope to be.

Flik closed his eyes. How would his life end? Would it be as Rina had told him it would? His dearest wish was to…

…What was it?

He had forgotten. Over the years and across a thousand light years and just as many battlegrounds, the wish he had held dearest to his heart had changed its shape so many times that he had forgotten what it looked like originally. All that remained of it was the intent and the unwritten, unspoken words that was his _raison d'être._ The Knight-Commander he had served under when he had been part of the Astral Claws had once told him that the truest vows one made were those that were never written nor spoken, but which compelled the one who made them to act without being asked.

"It has been a long time, Sir Flik. How have you been…?"

Flik turned to face the speaker. He knew that voice. There, sitting on one of the bunkers of the Alpha Terminus defence line where the veteran companies of the Scarlet Moon's Nova Lords Knightly Order had clashed with the TLF's storm-trooper elite, was the enigmatic and beautiful mother of Tir MacDohl and the sister of the woman who had led the Emperor Barbarossa to his tragic end: Prophetess-Saint Leknaat Ashtall. Rumour had it that Lady Leknaat was as powerful as Jeanne, but neither had ever been interested in testing the limits of the other's power simply to end an argument. Clad in elegant blue and white robes, with a circlet made of orichalum and inlaid with ruby holding her dark hair in place, the matronly and wise Leknaat was the polar opposite of the sensuous and seductive Jeanne. In more ways than one, the dark-haired mother of Tir McDohl reminded Flik of his own.

"Lady Leknaat. What…? Why…?" Flik found that having ten questions wanting to be voiced by one mouth, all at the same time, was not conducive to getting answers.

The dark-haired Betelgeusian Prophetess-Saint smiled, "Do calm down, Flik. I'm not Jeanne. My motives of wanting to speak to you are simply that. Is it wrong of me to speak to one of my son's most trusted friends? And yes, I AM here, in your dream, Flik. It is easier for me to speak to you in the dream-realms than to take a ship or teleport myself to Castle Seraph. And besides, here…we are assured of our privacy."

"You know," Flik said as he walked towards Leknaat, "This pretty much answers some of the questions I had regarding you and Jeanne."

"And that is?"

"The question of who is more powerful."

Leknaat laughed at that, "Yes, it is true that I am more powerful than Jeanne, but she could easily take my place if she put her mind to it. She has lived far, far longer than I and has at her disposal Charms and Techniques that have never seen the light of day. But you know what she is like. She would much prefer to carouse and enjoy life than bear the burdens and responsibilities that come with being the Prophetess-Saint."

Flik chuckled, remembering the sultry look in Jeanne's eyes, "She is more devil than saint."

"Yes," Leknaat had a rare, mischievous smile on her ageless countenance, "One that is in love with you."

"Why me?" the question left Flik's lips before he could stop it, "Why not someone…"

"Who is richer and more powerful? Someone who can give Jeanne everything she asks for?" Leknaat finished Flik's sentence, "Therein lies the quandary, Flik. What she wants cannot be bought or taken by force. It must be given freely."

"What she wants…" Flik replied after a long silence, "I cannot give. It would mean violating my oath to Odessa."

The dark-haired Prophetess-Saint smiled, "Odessa was – is – a good woman, Flik, but she has long ago crossed the River Styx. You will see her again. But will you meet her with joy in your eyes; your life lived full and with stories to tell? Or will you meet her as a broken man, lonely and embittered with nothing to say of your years alive? Believe me when I say that that would be the last thing she wants. It would be the last thing those who love you – and who you love in turn – would want."

Leknaat looked up to the starry sky, before continuing, "Flik, life is measured not by how many of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away. When we cross the River, part of the toll we pay the ferryman is our life's story – and there is nothing the Reaper hates more than a wasted life. It offends him in ways you cannot even begin to imagine. And sometimes…" and she looked past Flik to someone – or something – behind him, causing the latter to turn about. What the brown-haired Apostle Army general saw made his eyes widen and his heart-rate to skyrocket. Love, lust, awe and admiration held mind, body, heart and soul in chains stronger – and gentler – than those which had bound Prometheus.

"…on behalf of a soul who has long proven himself worthy of being blessed but has yet to receive his reward, the Ashen King will ask the Almighty and the Fates for a favour…"

Standing before Flik was Jeanne as he had seen her on Rina's holo-card, clad in dark silk garments that accentuated and revealed much of the lush but athletic body that had been the envy of every woman to know her name and which represented the flawless crucible by which a man could plant his seed. But that was not all that had made Flik weak at the knees. Enormous wings of soft velvet laid folded behind her, which the silver-haired temptress spread slowly before pulling the fallen Knight into her embrace. Flik did not see the dark-haired Prophetess-Saint disappear from the dreamscape with a smile, her parting words lost in the strangled sigh of ecstasy that left his lips.

**X X**

_**In Jeanne's shop, in Shamayim Sector, Apostle Army Headquarters, Castle Seraph**_

"He really is a good man, Jeanne," Leknaat said as she opened her eyes and regarded the alluring silver-haired rune-mistress who leaned on the nearby pillar, "Even if I disagree with your methods, I agree with your intent. It is long past time Flik let go of Odessa. No good can come of holding on to past regrets. This is doubly so when the Ashen King has marked you for death."

The dark-haired Prophetess-Saint paused briefly as one of Jeanne's gynoid servants to pour her a fresh cup of hot tea, the fragrant aroma bringing back memories of the two witches' distant home-world. Neither woman had returned to Betelgeuse in over a century, but made it a point to import some of its delicacies whenever possible. Angel Tea was one of them. It did wonders for calming the nerves and for improving blood circulation.

"But tell me one thing, Jeanne," Leknaat said as she picked up the cup, "Why Flik? Why not, as he had told me, a planetary governor or one of the Dynasts of the Ten Empires? Or maybe even a merchant prince of one of the Thousand Clans? I have known you for over a century, Jeanne. You have always chosen your lovers from amongst the ranks of our race's high-born and rarely, if ever, from the ranks of the common-born."

"I am not that discerning, Lena," Jeanne addressed her dark-haired counterpart by her nickname, "And you already know the answer to the question you posed. Flik is, as you already know, a good man. And good men are so very hard to find these days. Had I any sense, I would have made the Dragon Lord of the Scarlet Moon mine. But you would have blasted me to Hades if I so much looked at Teo the wrong way."

"And I would have," Leknaat replied with a smile of serene amusement, "You are, as many men and no few women have told you, a danger to happy marriages and faithful men. Temptation, sin and freedom walk in your shadow and in your wake, Jeanne. And now, like when Lilith herself sought out the Saviour, you turn your full power on Flik in order to enslave him."

"Enslave him? Perish the thought," the silver-haired rune-mistress put her wineglass back on the nearby table, "No, Leknaat. I want to set him free."

The dark-haired Prophetess-Saint opened her eyes and regarded the silver-haired witch with eyes that blazed with ageless wisdom and staggering power, "No. That is not the only reason, is it, Jeanne? You want to do more than set him free. Your idea of freedom is not so…" she took in the diaphanous, low-cut robes Jeanne wore and the buxom curves that would have driven the righteous into sin, "restrained – or virtuous, for that matter. No. You want to taint him."

"Yes, I intend to do just that, Leknaat. Are you going to stop me? Especially after acceding to my request…?"

Leknaat shook her head, "No. I've already told you that I disagreed with your methods but not with your intent. But tell me one thing, Jeanne. Are you aware of the consequences of your actions? Are you sure this is what you want? Once you cross this bridge, there is no turning back."

The silver-haired rune-mistress gazed into the silver-blue infernos that were the Prophetess-Saint's eyes without flinching, "I would not have asked for your help had I not been willing to pay the toll, Leknaat. This is what I desire. Will you help me?"

The dark-haired enchantress studied her silver-haired counterpart for a full minute before closing her eyes and turning her attention back to the crystalline orb before her, a smile on her face, "I will. You need not ask. We are friends, after all. But, this time, I will…charge you for my services. Can you afford me?"

Jeanne chuckled, "Short of asking me to buy you the loyalties of the Marduke Emperor and the Isiri House Lords, yes. What is it you wish?"

The dark-haired Prophetess-Saint stood up and strode towards her friend, before whispering her conditions into the latter's ear. The Silver Siren's eyes widened briefly, but she nodded in assent. It was, she thought in hindsight long after the powerful sorceress returned to her abode light-years away, a small price to pay in exchange to make her dream a reality.

**(O)**

**Six days later, aboard the Litany of Fury, an Archon-class Star Destroyer**

**En route to Amadeus Sector**

**Planning room**

The planning room aboard the _Imperious Fury_, an Archon-class Star Destroyer, was packed with the men and women the Apostle Army's Chief Strategist had selected for Operation Solar Eclipse. All of them had been drawn from the Apostle Army's elite companies, for the task at hand was difficult and required the skills of the best the legions had to offer. Flik, clad in a suit of newly forged power armour that the Apostle Army's leader had had commissioned for him to replace the battered one he had worn over the years, studied the people around him. Viktor was there, clad in his powered-combat suit, his armoured arms crossed over his chest. Oulan stood next to three Tager commanders, all of them clad in their highly-advanced and sturdy Aegis suits. Nina sat on the other side of the atrium with the Ctarl-Ctarl Pathfinders and Fire Warriors. Several of the latter were challenging the indefatigable Rikimaru to arm-wrestling bouts while they waited for the meeting to begin.

Flik turned his attention to the dozen or so golden-armoured Matilda Knights that were exchanging words and greetings with the Fire Warrior captains. They were led by Chapter Master Lysander Krueger, a powerfully-built man who was clad in ornate Terminator armour that was embellished with purity seals, and whose master-worked Thunder Hammer and strategic acumen had consigned hundreds of the Knightdom's – and humanity's – enemies to ignominious ends. When Camus and Miklotov defected, Lysander had been among the first to commit his entire Chapter to the Apostle Army's cause. There was, the grizzled leader of the Solar Crusaders Chapter had told Flik when he had asked him why he had defected, more courage and wisdom in a boy who had yet to see his twentieth birthday than a veteran warlord who had ruled for twice as long and won a hundred wars.

Knight-Commander Iris Krueger, Lysander's grand-daughter, was having a heated discussion with Valeria and Anita. The three women were poring over the blue-prints of the research facility that Shu's spies within Highland had managed to acquire at great cost. Flik hit several buttons on the table before him, and an ISIS holo-graphic keyboard and screen materialized before him. He pulled the blue-prints of Castle Fenrir from the ship's data-base, and tried to find a way to break through the fortress's formidable defences.

None of the options that took shape in his mind were feasible. Nothing short of a Geo-Sword could break Castle Fenrir wide open and destroy the iron womb that held the physical remains of a monster who had no right to live. Jeanne had told Shu that the _Ka'lashi _were close to succeeding in tearing the soul of Luca Blight from whatever Hell he was imprisoned in, and the dark-haired strategist knew better than to ask how the silver-haired witch knew.

"A frontal attack is impossible," a familiar, melodic voice broke Flik out of his train of thought, and caused him to look at the silver-haired witch who stood behind him. Flik's jaw – and that of every man within the room who had caught sight of Jeanne – crashed to the ground. The rune-mistress had exchanged her diaphanous, low-cut ensemble for the shimmering scale armour and robes normally worn by Betelgeuse's female Technique Masters. While no less eye-catching in the way it revealed the rune-mistress's considerable charms, it lent a fierce martial air to the otherwise playful silver-haired enchantress. Standing beside Jeanne was one of her gynoid retainers, carrying the sheathed force blade Flik had seen the latter use many times before.

It took a supreme effort of will for the brown-haired Apostle Army general to break the spell that the rune-mistress had cast by mere presence alone and regain his composure, "I'm sorry, Jeanne. You were saying…?"

"It is impossible to attack Castle Fenrir without the might of at least a battle-group behind us, Flik. Shu knows it, and so does everyone in this room. The Amadeus sector is the most heavily fortified region in all of Highland. It was meant to stand against the likes of the Marduke Purgation fleets and Ork incursions. The moment Farnost is attacked," Jeanne reached out and opened a sub-window showing the entire sector, "Every planet, star-fort and fleet in the sector will be alerted within the hour and reinforcements from the nearest Highland military stronghold will be dispatched within three. Assuming you can break through Farnost's orbital and sub-orbital defences, you will still have to deal with Castle Fenrir's garrison."

"And that would pose a challenge in and of itself," Flik turned his attention back to the screens, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand rather than on the woman behind him, "One made all the more difficult by the fact that if we weaken the Amadeus Sector's defensive network by striking too hard a blow at Castle Fenrir, we may very well find ourselves up to our necks in Orks, Zerg or, worse, the Marduke's Revenants. Apple, Shu and Kiba had better come up with a bloody good plan, because nothing we think of seems to work."

Jeanne smiled inwardly at Flik's actions. Try as he might to show disinterest, she had caught sight of the way his eyes had burned with that familiar hunger she had seen in the eyes of her many lovers. He wanted her. With each meeting, with every encounter, with every carefully-timed gesture of affection, the walls that Flik had built had built around his heart slowly crumbled. And when it did…when he gave in to his desires, she would devour him whole. There was so much the rune-mistress wanted to show and teach her newest – and final – student. But she had to be patient. No good could come out of rushing things. Her body wanted him in her, but Jeanne had long ago mastered her appetites. Better to draw it out and then unleash it; she would burn the memory of their love-making into Flik's soul forever.

'_And more…'_ the devilish side of the rune-mistress added with hungry relish. Her thoughts were interrupted as the holographic image of Shu appeared on the planning room's main table. The rune-mistress pushed her plans to the back of her mind. There would be time enough for all that later.

**X X X**

_**Highland Kingdom, Amadeus Sector, Farnost, thirty-six hours later**_

_**Castle Fenrir, Sector Indigo**_

Viktor was impressed. He had seen some – and participated in most – of the plans the intelligent Chief Strategist of the Apostle Army had devised, but the one he had come up with to crack Castle Fenrir wide open was by far the most audacious the big man had seen in a long time. Jesus, talk about walking into the lion's den, bearding it and pissing on the corpse! The commander of the fortress was going to have the devil to pay, should he live to tell the tale. With Valeria and the others making it seem like the commander was the target of the raid, Viktor and the rest could infiltrate into the fortress's inner compound and kick the Mad Prince back into the Hell he was trying to crawl out of. There was just one problem – there were a LOT of Highland soldiers and hardware in the way.

Viktor and his battalion had accounted for over a hundred confirmed kills, twelve tanks and a dozen light Hunter-class light Combat Frames as they cut deep into Castle Fenrir's nether regions and twisted the knife. A feat that would not have been possible had Viktor chosen to ignore Flik's advice of seizing one of the fortress's six supply depots early on in the attack. Taking control of a dozen suits of _Vairocana_-class battle-suits, six _Predator_-class assault tanks, five Land Raiders and three _Loyalist_-class Heavy Combat Frames had served to capsize whatever counterattacks the now-panicking Highland base commander and his aides threw Viktor's way. He didn't know how his compatriots were faring, but he would be damned before he let any one of them come to harm. Especially Flik, as his friend had a good thing – a **LOT** of good things, if what Jeanne told him was true – going for him. He grinned inwardly, as images that would have made Jesus himself drop dead in mortification took shape in his mind.

Damn, if that happened, he would not mind losing the bet he had made months ago with Leona when the silver-haired walking wet dream made clear her intent on making Flik hers. The big mercenary was willing to lose a thousand such bets to see the ending that Fate had in store for his doomed friend. He remembered how ferocious and energetic Jeanne could be in bed, and the thought of the silver-haired rune-mistress turning full-force the power of her wiles on Flik was enough to make Viktor actually pray that his friend lived through the (exhilarating) experience – and that he would live through the nosebleed that was threatening to stain the insides of his helmet with arterial crimson.

Viktor looked up at the stars overhead and whispered an apology to Odessa. He could almost imagine the beautiful, auburn-haired woman glaring at him, the thunderous expression on her face promising retribution the likes of which travelling minstrels would sing songs of. And who could blame her? He was teaching Flik the good part of the bad side of life. But, sometimes one needed to be bad to get the good. Sin needed to be embraced so that virtue could be learnt. And Flik needed something to hold on to. He needed a reason to fight, and a home to return to.

"This is Sword Alpha-One-Zero-Tango," the voice of Viktor's second-in-command emerged from his ear-piece, breaking Viktor out of his thoughts, "Area secured and secondary mission accomplished. Sector Gamma is under our control. The big boys are on their way, ETA ten – no, wait – make that five minutes. It seems Lord Lysander wants in on the fun regardless of whether or not the LZ is clear. He's coming down with the first wave. Oh, and sir…he's not happy that you got the honour of drawing first blood."

The big mercenary grinned and looked up as drop-pods rained down from the night skies, wreathed in flame and bearing within its armoured confines the elite companies of the Solar Crusaders Knightly Order. The fortress's anti-aircraft defences filled the air with tracers, laser bolts and rockets, destroying many of the pods before they made planet-fall. It was all for naught. A good number of the drop-pods managed to make planet-fall and its angry occupants emerged from its armoured confines, guns blazing. Leading the charge, Thunder Hammer and Storm Shield in hand was the Solar Crusaders' Chapter Master, who looked all too ready to bring the fortress down on his own and piss on the ruins.

"I hear you, Sword Alpha-One-Zero-Tango. Give the old wolf a chance on the dance floor, but be prepared to back him up if he calls for help. This is still enemy territory, and they have the advantage of terrain and numbers. We'll get our asses kicked if we forget that."

"Right on, boss."

"Oh, one more thing…"

"Yes, boss?"

"See if you can get us a _Leviathan_ drop-ship. I want to clean out as much of this base as possible. The depots we took control of have plenty of things I want delivered to Castle Seraph's warehouses. It's almost Christmas and I want to get our leader some presents."

Viktor could almost hear his second-in-command grin, "You got it, sir. Anything else…?"

The big mercenary studied the portable Tactical Holographic display one of his marines had set up on a nearby ammo crate. The device showed Viktor the three-dimensional image of the fortress he was in and the locations of both friendly and enemy forces. Valeria, Rikimaru, Hauser and Maximilian (as well as their respective companies) were busy dealing with the Highland forces near the Central sector where Castle Fenrir's C&C was located. Lysander and his army, having just recently landed, were in the midst of tearing up the eastern sector, tying down any reinforcements heading to try and break the Apostle Army's siege of the fortress's central sector. The forces Flik and Jeanne led were moving swiftly towards the research facility, dispatching any and all enemies unfortunate enough to cross their path. Two storm-trooper companies, three squads of Solar Crusaders and over forty wingly Aspect Warriors – now that was a combination capable of making a man's balls shrink. Throw into that mix one very powerful rune-mistress, one master swordsman and one wingly Autarch and one had a recipe to send a Knightly Order packing.

And these were not your regular Aspect Warriors that Jeanne had called in. That would have been bad enough. No, each and every one of the warriors that had joined in the attack on Castle Fenrir bore on their armour and weapons the crest of the Prophetess-Queen of Suldanesselar, the co-ruler of the Archangel Duchy. These were the royal guard of, if the stories were true, a demigoddess. But why would they be here? What favour did the wingly Prophetess-Queen owe Jeanne? It was a question that everyone – especially Shu and Apple – would no doubt be asking.

"Boss…?" the voice of Viktor's second-in-command broke the big man out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here. Can you get the Land Raiders we took on my position in five minutes? Alpha Company and I are going to help Sir Galahad hit the research facility."

**X X X**

**_Castle Fenrir, Sector Prometheus, Project Lazarus Research facility_**

Autarch Selene Dawnstrider looked at the human warrior her Queen had bidden her to protect and wondered why the last had asked her to protect an individual as formidable as the Lightning Knight. The blue-armored human swordsman was not an individual who needed protecting. His skills were easily the equal of her second-in-command, the Exarch Korien of the Dire Avengers and his power the equal of the archmage the autarch had allowed to accompany her. The latter had been awed by the display. With a single bolt of crimson-black warp lightning, the human had blasted a smoking hole in the super-heavy tank – a _Baneblade_, if memory serves – and knocked it back a full foot, stunning its crew and giving Selene's Fire Dragons a chance to destroy it and the rest of the strike force to cut the defenders down.

Taking a chance to catch her breath, Selene turned her gaze to the blazing sword the human wielder, its pulsing flames dancing in tandem with the heartbeat of Creation itself. The runes engraved onto the unknown metal the sword was crafted from were not shrieking in rage and fury as the records in the Ivory Tower had said they would; no, they were singing in joy and whispering prayers in an ancient human tongue to a deity even the winglies' own knew and acknowledged as one with few equals in the universe. The female Autarch did not need to know the lost tongue of the human barbarians to know what the sword spoke. It whispered to those that would listen of duty and honor, of love and devotion, of courage and sorrow. It spoke of war and defiance, of battles hard-won and those yet to come. And it sang of those brave souls that have yet to walk Creation. The female Autarch shivered.

_Sol'Kanar_ – the Solar Fang, given unto the founder of the first of humanity's star-spanning republics, the last blade to be crafted by the hands of the last of a deity's mortal descendants, was a Hero Blade. It bequeathed unto its wielder the power to make – or to change the course of – history, but at a high price. It demanded that its wielder pay with his life. One does not make demands of the Fates and the Ashen King without first bargaining away one's life and soul. If the human knew, he did not care. He had the eyes of one who looked at a future better than the past he left behind or the present he was living in. And standing beside him, clad in master-crafted armor and robes that revealed and held securely her ample cleavage, was the immortal witch whom Selene's mistress had said would write the ending of a story yet to be told. A story that would be written only seven millennia later and played out by those who would be born before the century turned. When Selene had asked her Queen what she had meant, the latter had smiled gently, placed a hand on her forehead…and showed her.

She saw a time of prophecy, when the last descendants of the Clan of the Seven Nights crossed swords with the demigod – in truth, demi-_goddess_ – the mightiest among their number had served faithfully for over a decade. She saw two young women, both with pink hair, one born under the aegis of the crescent moon and the other guided by the stars, alike and yet so different, in love with a young man with brown hair and violet eyes, holding a crackling sword whose touch spelt doom for the fey-touched Gears. She saw a red-haired woman with the wings of the sacred Phoenix on her back descend at the head of an army led by a stern, violet-eyed, dark-haired Empress who wielded the replica of a sword wielded by one of humanity's mythic kings. She saw another girl, this one clad in crimson, her hair shorter than that of her counterpart, stand within the hangar bay of a starship, her eyes gazing upon the machine god before her, her grey eyes hot with anger. She saw a young hero who was made the instrument of a priest-king whose utopian vision would spell the end to freedom in all its shades and chain all that live and would be born to destiny's decrees. She saw a man clad in robes of black and silver, the unloved son of a proud woman who loved her trappings of glory more than what her loyal, lowborn mate had offered, sow the seeds of a new Empire. She watched a prince bleed his last, his broken body in the arms of his enemy who loved him even as she laid him low.

She saw a tapestry of tragedy and sorrow, of war and strife, enough to make her weep. And the worst thing was that this path had long ago been preordained. The players were being assembled and the stage was being set for the drama that was to unfold. It would be millennia before the final act was played out, but the powers that be were already preparing for it. Soon, one of its most important players would be born from the union between the silver-haired witch and her chosen mate. His path would be long and hard, his rewards few. But he would not be alone. And when he arrived with the twelve angels of justice at the gates of the Himmel, the majestic fortress-monastery where those who bowed before the throne of the Great Creator lived and trained, Selene would be waiting for him.

**X X**

_**Castle Fenrir, Sector Prometheus, Project Lazarus Research facility interiors, at that very moment…**_

Korien of the Dire Avengers led his surviving brethren into the research facility ahead of the rest of the force, intent on making sure that the surviving Highland soldiers that had retreated therein would not have the time to mount a counterattack. They were excellent soldiers, these humans. They did not allow their fear to control them. They knew they were up against a superior adversary and took the necessary precautions of establishing a defensive perimeter to tie them down so that their wounded could be evacuated. What more, they had chosen to fight in darkness, a clear indication that they were all equipped with night-fighting equipment. The Exarch flinched as the plascrete barricade he took cover behind shook under the force of the impact of the high-velocity projectiles fired by his enemies' gauss assault rifles. A single hit from that primitive but deadly weapon has spelt the end of more than one overconfident Exarch, and Korien was determined not to have his life ended in such an ignominious fashion.

"Amelia, Malthus, be ready to take down the _mon'keigh_ when I give the signal. Selkia, pin them down."

Three voices replied in the affirmative. Selkia, his squads' heavy weapons specialist, swung out of cover, and opened fire on the human soldiers with her shuriken cannon. Many of them dove back into cover, but four of their number fell under the barrage. Their leader cursed and ordered several of his warriors to take up the positions of those that had been slain. Korien smiled; this then, was the opportunity he had been waiting for, albeit one he had not expected. Both he and the humans had the advantage of cover, one neither party was willing to give up. The only way to break the defensive formation of the other was to force him to change it.

He would have to buy Selkia a round of drinks in the Royal Lion when they returned to Suldanesselar. But before Korien could order his Dire Avengers to attack, the familiar, hated roar of one of the most vicious weapons ever to be crafted by the hands of the _mon'keigh_ cut his command short. Selkia's next words warned him of the approaching threat, one that made the Exarch realize that it would be in his best interests to fall back.

The cursed _Ka'lashi_ had already done what had been asked of them. The Mad Prince walked Creation once more. And he had not come alone.

**X X**

**_Castle Fenrir, Sector Prometheus, Project Lazarus Research facility outer compound…_**

Flik could not believe it at first, but when the wingly Dire Avenger Exarch – and what remained of his squads – _**exploded**_ from the research facility, their weapons blazing, he knew that they were too late. Luca Blight had been resurrected. And seconds after that, a dark-haired figure clad in master-crafted armor of silver and gold, sent the bodies of the winglies and those storm-troopers not fast enough to retreat flying, their bodies cut in half. The brown-haired Apostle Army general feels his hand tighten around the grip of his sword, the ancient weapon practically screaming in outrage at the monster whose resurrection went against the very laws of Creation. Even before the first body had landed, Flik had charged the Mad Prince, covering the hundred meter distance between them in a heartbeat. The latter barely had time to block the plasma sword that almost took his head off, and was unprepared for the sheer explosive force the former had unleashed in his attack.

But the Mad Prince was a warrior-born. He had fought in a thousand battlefields and defeated enemies mightier than he. He had been tempered in a crucible where the weak were devoured and the strong prevailed. To the people of Highland, the dark-haired Prince was a hero and the incarnation of the Beast Rune granted to the Kingdom by the Holy Kingdom of Harmonia centuries ago. It would take more than an angry, fallen Knight of Antares to kill him, even if said knight had in his hands the very Daiklave once wielded by the founder of the Solar Empire.

"I remember you, pig!" the Prince's lips pulled into an insane grin, "You are one of that brat's protectors! The one they call the Lightning Knight!"

"And you are supposed to be dead," Flik replied in as calm a voice as he could manage, straining to keep the Mad Prince's chain-blade locked with his flaming sword, "The Devil must be sleeping on the job if she allowed you to get out of Hell!"

"Hell cannot hold me," and with a heave, the Prince threw his enemy back, "And you and your friends do not have the strength to defeat me. This time, I **WILL** destroy the State. Ah, what do we have here…? The Silver Siren herself…? It has been a long time, teacher. I never would have believed that you had chosen to align yourself with that brat's army had my spies not brought me proof that you have done so. This explains why my Librarians were always outmatched on the battlefield and why they were unable to teleport me from that cursed trap the Apostle Army's chief strategist had set for me."

Flik looked briefly to either side of him to see that Jeanne, Selene and her Striking Scorpions had moved to surround the Mad Prince, a barrier of steel, martial skill and sorcery. The silver-haired enchantress had her force blade in one hand and her ornate jade staff in another. She regarded the powerfully-built Prince with a look of disdain, "Little Luca Blight. Of all the students I had taught in the Academy at L'Renouille all those years ago, you were the one who had the most potential and promise. Had you chosen a path other than the one you trod, you would have been a King greater than any in the history of the Shogunate. You might have even been chosen as young Shouren had to bear a True Rune. But now, the student I had held so much hope for is nothing more than a beast. You have been a bad, little boy, Luca. And the fact that you have chosen to not take your medicine makes you worse than disobedient."

Power swirled around the silver-haired rune-mistress, the True Runes heeding her call. All 27 turned their attention to this one individual who had dared to challenge edicts set forth by the Almighty at the dawn of time. She grinned at Luca Blight, her light green eyes turning to a shade of gold on crimson, the reptilian slits bespeaking of fury and malice that would have made demons cower, "And it is time teacher taught you a lesson…."

**X X**

**_Castle Fenrir, Sector Ezekiel__,__ en route to Sector Prometheus, ETA 15 minutes_**

_**Apostle Army Land Raider squadron…**_

Viktor could not believe what he was hearing. One minute, it had been all sunshine and roses. Everything had been going according to plan. The next, everything went to hell in a hand-basket. What details he could get from the storm-trooper contingent that accompanied Flik and Jeanne painted a picture that was beyond ugly. The fucking _Ka'lashi_ had managed to get Luca Blight back on his feet. And they had seen to it that the monsters that had torn Avernus Station apart would be right next to him. Viktor grimaced. Putting that asshole prince back in his grave just got a **LOT** harder. A sudden, earthshaking explosion that could be felt throughout the Highland citadel derailed that train of thought almost instantly. The big man barely had time to grab a nearby handrail as the heavy transport he was on was almost flung onto its side by the shockwave.

"What the fuck was that?" Viktor yelled over the startled shouts of his men.

One of his marines, a woman with dark hair and cybernetic implants, gave him the answer seconds later, "You'd better come see this, chief…"

The woman's shaky voice caused Viktor to move swiftly to her side. What he saw caused his jaw – and those of his men who were near enough to see what was on the console's holo-screens – to crash to the floor. Thunderbolts, meteors, earthquakes and tornadoes were tearing up the entirety of Sector Prometheus, laying building, vehicle and flesh to ruin. Viktor remembered what it took to kill the Mad Prince the first time. He knew that the company of soldiers that accompanied both his best friend and the silver-haired rune-mistress would not be enough to defeat both Luca Blight and his bodyguard of Horned Ones and Black Wolf Knights. But the power that was being brought to bear against the resurrected Prince and his subordinates was one that could split mountains in half and crush armies.

"Elise, pass the word," Viktor tried to keep his voice steady, even as a titanic lightning bolt cut a control tower in half with a crash that could be heard for miles around, "All squads are to dismount. We'll be moving in on foot from here on out. The Land Raiders are to act as rearguard and as heavy support."

"Sir…?"

"I know what you and some of the guys are thinking, but believe me when I tell you that staying out of **THIS** fight is a good idea. We get mixed up in this, we're dead. All of us," Viktor's words were punctuated by another earthshaking explosion that rocked the Land Raider the big man and his marines were on violently, "Jeanne is pissed, period. And she is not the only one. It seems that my best bud has finally lost his marbles…"

The marines exchanged nervous looks. Everyone knew that the flighty and seductive rune-mistress and the stoic former Antarian Knight were not easy to anger. Viktor slammed a new clip into his gauss rifle and strode towards the Land Raider's forward assault ramp, "But I'll be damned before I let the Highland scum get to either one of them while they're down. Off your asses, boys and girls – it's time to show Luca's boys how real soldiers fight."

**X X**

By the time Viktor and his marines swarmed into the compound, guns and chain-blades at the ready, the fight between Luca Blight and the Apostle Army's elite strike-teams had already been decided. But the cost of victory had been high. Of the three-hundred strong storm-trooper company and the sixty wingly Aspect Warriors Shu and Jeanne had committed to the objective of making sure that the _Ka'lashi_ would not succeed in resurrecting Luca Blight, only a handful had survived – and these were emerging from the ruins of buildings that had been built to withstand an orbital barrage, shell-shocked in more ways than one. It did not take Viktor long to find Jeanne and Flik. The latter was resting in the lap of the former. Both had taken a beating, but Flik looked to the entire world like a man about to be taken by the Reaper. The latter was out cold and his torn armor was caked with dried blood. Was he…? The big man felt his blood turn to ice. He turned to shout for a medic, but Jeanne's soft voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"He'll be all right, Viktor," the immortal witch said as she ran an affectionate hand through Flik's hair, "His wounds were severe, but I have seen to them. Truly, Viktor, how have you survived so long by fighting alongside someone so reckless? He knew he was not Luca's match and still dared to cross swords with him. Had he been alone, he would not have lasted five minutes."

Five minutes? That was an accomplishment in more ways than one, Viktor knew. Lasting one minute against Luca Blight was – is – a miracle, as the average lifespan of both soldier (experienced or otherwise) and civilian in the face of such monstrous strength and bloodthirst was but a fraction of that. But Flik had done so and managed to regain everything he had lost during the First Crimson War. For the first time in the long time Viktor had known Flik, the latter was at peace and in the arms of someone who loved him. The brief moment of peace was interrupted when the voice of Viktor's second-in-command emerged from his suit's inbuilt communications array, "Sword King, this is Sword Alpha-One-Zero-Tango. We…have a problem. A very big problem…"

Viktor did not like the sound of that, "Define 'big', lieutenant."

"Sensors indicate we have a _Vairocana_-class Titan and four _Warhound_-class scout titans closing in on the base. Point of origin is the Titan Legion Chapter fortress seventy clicks east of here. ETA: twenty minutes. Also, we have a flight of Warhawk gunships coming in from the north. IFF confirms them to be reinforcements from the Black Wolf fortress-monastery in the Parthenon Mountains. Commander Valeria has ordered an immediate withdrawal. Boss, tell me we put that mother-fucking Prince down in the ground permanently, please!"

The dark-haired mercenary leader turned to look at the silver-haired rune-mistress in askance, and the latter turned to look at a smoking crater a hundred meters from where they were. Stone, steel and soil alike had been vaporized by the forces Jeanne had brought to bear on the Mad Prince. Viktor whistled in appreciative awe, before telling his subordinate that Luca Blight was well and truly dead – and that the second had better had gotten the job he had been tasked with earlier done before he joined the last.

"Don't worry, boss," the relief in the man's voice upon being told that Luca Blight was dead was clear as day, "We got the ship prepped and ready for launch. Just give us a while to pack a hold full and we can come pick you up. ETA: 15 minutes."

"Make it happen," Viktor replied and turned off his communicator before turning his attention back to Jeanne, "A drop-ship will be here soon, Jeanne."

"That will not be necessary, Viktor. My ship is in low orbit and its tracking arrays have been locked onto me ever since I made planet-fall. Mala, do you read?" Jeanne turned her head skyward.

Almost immediately, a holo-screen materialized several feet from Jeanne, revealing the red-haired gynoid that Viktor recognized as the _Silver Destiny_'s pilot, "Yes, mistress. What is your command?"

"Do you have a lock on my coordinates?"

"Yes, mistress," the gynoid replied, "Do you wish me to gate you onto the ship?"

"Yes. Have Esmeralda meet me at the Gateway with my healing salves. I have a guest who will be in need of them."

"Understood, mistress," the gynoid replied, "Gating sequence initializing in ten seconds…"

The holo-screen closed and a nimbus of power surrounded both Flik and Jeanne. Viktor and the marines nearby took several steps back to avoid being caught in the teleportation field. It was only then that the big mercenary realized that his friend's prized sword was nowhere near him. Viktor proceeded to ask the rune-mistress where it was. The latter pointed at the crater once more, "I believe it is down there with what is left of my former student. Please retrieve it for me, Viktor. I…am currently not in a position to do so."

Viktor nodded, trying his best to keep himself from leering. Man, he would give ten thousand credits to be where Flik was now and where he would be later. He could tell that Jeanne was about to deliver the coup de grace, and that his friend would not be able to fend off the beautiful predator that stood ready to devour him. He knew what Jeanne was capable of; her…techniques were more than able to make the dead walk again.

"I'll leave Flik in your hands, Jeanne," Viktor said, winking at the silver-haired enchantress, "Try not to make his wounds worse, okay?"

The marines nearby snickered. They knew that the double entendre in their commander's words were intentional. "I'll do my best," the silver-haired witch replied with a saucy grin as the energy field that surrounded her and Flik grew brighter and they disappeared with a thunderous crack of displacing air. It was only minutes later as he descended into the crater to retrieve Flik's sword – which had pinned the charred, near unrecognizable corpse of the Mad Prince to the sundered, molten earth – did he realized what Jeanne had told him regarding the Mad Prince.

"He was her student…?"

**(O)**

**_The Silver Destiny, en route to Castle Seraph _**

**_Two days after the attack on Castle Fenrir…_**

Jeanne leaned back in her ship's command throne with a contented sigh as one of her gynoid retainers poured her a glass of strong Betelgeusian spirits. The rune-mistress had taken the time to enjoy a hot bath and a good meal before tending to Flik. The man had regained consciousness some two hours ago, a fact that surprised the immortal witch considering that calling upon the Solar Fang's full power was a feat that proved fatal to those who were unprepared to deal with it. But the sentience bound within the sword had long ago strengthened the mind and body of its wielder in anticipation for such a day. The seductive rune-mistress sipped her drink, remembering the fiery sword that had quite literally split the sky and reduced a third of Castle Fenrir to ruin. Marry that insane amount of power with that of the 27 True Runes Jeanne had channeled into the blade, and the destruction went beyond biblical, as the IGNN (1) news reporter quoted one of the Highland Marine company commanders.

The rune-mistress was not surprised that the attack on Castle Fenrir had made headlines throughout the entire galaxy in so short a time. The fortress was regarded by many as one of the few human strongholds in the galaxy as the equal of the Himmel on Lordaeron and the Imperial Palace on Terra. To have it devastated by a force not even a tenth of the forty thousand-strong garrison that held the citadel had caused the lords of Highland a severe loss of face. The fact that the citadel had managed to 'repel' the Apostle Army's strike teams, Jeanne knew, would do little to salve the Highland Army's pride. They had lost their Prince and had one of their major strongholds devastated in the space of five months.

And knowing Shu, he was probably sowing dissent and misinformation throughout the kingdom while ferreting out Highland spies within the State. The man could make an Isiri warlord nervous, and that was saying a lot. Indeed, Jeanne had tried to seduce the chief strategist months ago, but the latter proved to be impervious to her charms. Well, _almost_ impervious. The dark-haired master strategist had blushed like a schoolboy who had come face-to-face with a teacher he had admired and was slowly falling for. Jeanne finished her drink, put the glass on the small table next to her command throne, and stood up.

"Mala, warm up the star engines and prepare to gate us to Procyon," the silver-haired rune-mistress instructed the red-haired gynoid, "Send a message to Apple informing her that there are things there that I wish to purchase there. If there is anything she wishes me to pick up from the Solar Empire, tell her to send me a list."

"Yes, mistress," Mala replied.

"Oh…and Mala, where is my guest?"

"He is in the library, mistress. Apparently, he has been perusing your books and holo-records for quite some time."

"I see," Jeanne crossed her arms under her breasts and turned to the gynoid behind her, "Zelda, please bring another bottle of Betelgeusian spirits to the library and have Alana prepare something for Lord Flik and myself. I believe dinner is long overdue."

X X

_**The Library, Silver Destiny, at that very moment…**_

It was the first time in all the years that Flik had known the seductive, silver-haired rune-mistress that he had been allowed to step foot onto her ship – an honor, the auburn-haired gynoid that stood nearby had told him, that the latter had given to a select few. One look at his surroundings told the man why: it was a haven that allowed the immortal witch to wander the star ocean for years at a time in comfort and not fear its dangers. Opulence and luxury the likes of which the former Antarian Knight could only dream of lined every corner and filled every room on the _Silver Destiny_. Even the massive library which he sat in boasted statues of mythical creatures, heroes and deities sculpted by master artisans whose fees were a prince's ransom.

Flik put down the book he had been reading and walked towards the statue that dominated the heart of the massive library. Created by Sir Andy Wright of the Kingdom of Antares, it was a memorial to heroes who had been instrumental in stopping the Steel Inferno, the Marduke invasion of the Byzantium sub-sector. What had taken place there over a century ago was a macrocosm of what had taken place at Eskellon. But, unlike Eskellon, Byzantium was heavily defended by the armies and star-fleets of three countries: the Republic of Galbadia, the Dollet Dukedom and the City-States of Timber. Not only that, Byzantium Secundus was the heartland of the SeeD Organization, a mercenary army whose fearsome reputation for getting the job done was well-deserved.

"'_SeeD never surrenders, and never fails…'"_ the brown-haired Apostle Army general repeated the words that had struck fear in a hundred races across the galaxy, a pronouncement of death spoken by the Ashen King from his alabaster throne. Indeed, even the Marduke and the Isiri feared the SeeD Organization. One could not make the fearless fearful or dishearten the daring. Nor could one underestimate young men and women who had the weapons and skills to tear through a force many times their number.

But the Steel Inferno tested – and broke – the strength of not only the Byzantium's countries, but the SeeD Organization's as well. The sacrifices made to break the back of the Marduke invasion had been monumental, and the sculpture commissioned by Jeanne was a testament to that. In the arms of Quistis Trepe, Rinoa Heartilly and the Guardian Force of Ice, Shiva, was the broken and torn body of Squall Leonhart, commander of the combined SeeD army. Surrounding them in a circle were their friends and comrades, all of whom had expressions of grim determination. All save one – Seifer Almasy, the White Lion Knight, hero of the Steel Inferno, who had his gun-blade raised up high and an expression of triumph on his proud features. Indeed, the stories and movies praising the virtues of the White Lion Knight and his allies were numerous. Those that paid tribute to his rival and his companions were few and far between. But, one thing was for certain – Squall Leonhart cared little for fame, wealth and glory. He was the archetypal SeeD commander whose cold fury and precision had earned the organization he was part of its terrifying reputation.

A pair of lithe arms and a lush body pressed against his back broke Flik out of his thoughts. He knew without turning that the person behind him was none other than the silver-haired, walking wet dream whose allure had bound countless men and women in silken chains. Chains, he knew, that were slowly tightening around his heart. Something in their relationship had changed. When did it change, Flik did not know. But he wanted what Jeanne was offering. The memory of the dream he had had a week before returned with a vengeance despite his best attempts to forget it. The sensuous kisses, the silken warmth his erect phallus had been enfolded by warm flesh, the memory of his seed filling her womb copiously, served to fire his libido all the more. It took all of Flik's willpower to maintain his composure.

"Jeanne…?" Flik's voice was rough.

"Did I surprise you, boya?" the rune-mistress's voice was – like the rest of her – pure seduction given voice and form.

"I…"

Jeanne chuckled and released Flik, before standing beside him, her expression becoming distant and sad as she looked at the statue that towered over them, "I was there, you know, when the Steel Inferno took place over a hundred years ago, when the SeeD Organization stood at the zenith of its power and was consumed by bitter political infighting. It was a miracle that the Thousand Gardens – yes, there were more than what was recorded in the history books – had yet to turn their guns on one another."

"Did you know Squall Leonhart and his peers, Lady Jeanne?" Flik asked.

"Yes, I did. But I think that is a topic best reserved for until we have had dinner."

**X X**

It was only after Flik and Jeanne had eaten did the rune-mistress divulge everything she knew about the Steel Inferno. And what the silver-haired witch knew were truths the mighty would not permit their inferiors to know. The brown-haired Antarian Knight shook his head in disbelief. Two million young men and women – orphans one and all – had been sacrificed almost to the last so as to buy time for the armies of the Byzantium sector (who would arrive far too late to relieve them) to regroup and to allow many of the less scrupulous Garden Masters to flee the sector with their ill-gotten gains. It was a story of treachery and greed that sickened the brown-haired Apostle Army general.

"But why…?" Flik asked.

"Fear can drive even the noblest to treachery, Flik. It renders even the wisest incapable of rational thought. When Pandora of ancient Greek myth opened the box where the Evils were sealed, it was not only the mortal races that knew their twisted affections, but the immortals as well," Jeanne put down her glass of wine and moved towards the nearby bookshelf, withdrawing a well-worn book from its resting place, "In this book, it was written by a philosopher whom Lordaeron had had silenced that it was not Satan who was cast from Heaven, but God Himself."

"That's heresy."

"Heresy is but another word for freedom, Flik. It is a word made by the mighty to divide the world into that which is theirs, and that which is to be subjugated and – or – destroyed. Heresy is a word that declares one's logos to be infallible and all the rest impure and corrupt. It is a word, dearest, that has started wars and laid the oldest civilizations of ancient Terra low."

The former Antarian Knight could not argue with the immortal enchantress's logic.

"And to the powers of the day, the SeeD organization was a cancer that needed to be excised, never mind the fact that they were the ones that created it in the first place with their endless wars and intrigues. Everyone knew that to go to war with SeeD was suicide; the combined might of the Thousand Gardens would deal a blow to the human-held republics from which they would never recover. The Steel Inferno gave them an unprecedented opportunity to finally be rid of them – and they took it with both hands. Had it not been for Squall Leonhart, they would have succeeded. Imagine their fury when they realized that their magnificent scheme had been foiled by a boy who had yet to see his twentieth birthday."

Oh, Flik could imagine it, all right. The image that took shape in his mind was a sight ten times more satisfying than when he had, in the aftermath of the Eskellon Massacre, called his former Chapter Master in the Astral Claws a craven coward unworthy of everything he had inherited and earned. The latter had purpled and attacked him, only to regret it seconds later when he lost an arm and was sent crashing into a pillar, his armor the only thing that saved him from a death he deserved a thousand times over. That he had attacked a high-born noble of the Kingdom had brought about repercussions, but Flik cared little of them. The rage of potentates and princes were as nothing in the face of the alien races who sought humanity's extinction and/or subjugation. It was nothing when compared to the friends he had lost, or the betrayal Eskellon's people had felt when they realized that the Knightly Order that they had hoped would come to protect them were not coming.

"History remembers the Day of the Broken Crown as the day when the Marduke sent their elite killers to each of the human republics to assassinate its leaders and weaken them in preparation for the Steel Inferno. Time has allowed the truth to be obscured, but those historians who have made it their life's work to find out what had taken place during the Steel Inferno soon find discrepancies between what they discovered and what is written."

"Such as…?"

"For one," Jeanne sat down from across Flik, "When have the Marduke and their mechanical killers ever used any weapons crafted by the races of this galaxy? The fact that there were corpses to be buried is proof enough that the Marduke did not have a hand in the death of President Deling and his peers. Had they been struck by a lightning gun, there would have been little left to identify."

Flik conceded the point. He had seen how lethal the lightning guns wielded by the Marduke's mechanical warriors could be.

"Second," Jeanne raised a second finger, "Marduke kill-teams operate on a scorched-earth policy. Everything within ten kilometers of their target gets flung across the River Styx. Third," she raised a third finger, "Marduke kill-teams are never subtle. Considering the kind of forces their commanders can bring to bear at any one time, subterfuge is a pointless waste of time. The strike teams that murdered the state leaders of the Byzantium sector, three Cardinals in Lordaeron and dozens of government officials across the galaxy were subtle, precise and equipped with – admittedly, more advanced versions – of the weapons used by the races of this galaxy. Observe…"

The rune-mistress activated a holo-screen and opened up data-files pertaining to the Broken Crown affair. Tonight would be a night secrets were revealed. On one sub-screen was a weapon recovered by and kept within a top-secret military facility within Galbadia – one that was stolen seventy years ago by the descendants of its original wielder. A weapon Flik recognized. His company chaplain had presented one just like it to him the day he had been initiated into the Astral Claws Knightly Order. The older man had told him that the ornate bolt pistol had been wielded by both his father and grandfather in the long decades they had served the Kingdom of Antares. The weapon was gene-coded; only those of Flik's blood could fire the weapon.

"The _Judgment_-class bolt pistols (3) were Balamb Garden's signature weapon. Its forge-masters had crafted two thousand such weapons, one for each of its SeeDs. Now, only seventy remain," and Jeanne took the pistol from the gynoid behind her, the latter drawing it from the folds of her low-cut robes before offering it to the former, "and yours is one of them."

"Are you saying that I…?"

Jeanne examined the gun before putting it on the table, "Yes, Flik. You are a child of SeeD. And not just any SeeD, I might add. You are the great-grandchild of Squall Leonhart and Quistis Trepe. And no," the rune-mistress was before the brown-haired warrior before he could speak, one finger on his lips, "I am not lying. I acquired some blood-samples from the apothecary who tended to you back when you and yours arrived at Fort Tiamat (2) then and ran them through the data-base," she nodded to the holo-screen before Flik, "It was an 87% match. You are living proof that Squall Leonhart did not die in the Steel Inferno."

"And you never told me this back then…? Why?" Flik asked after a long silence.

"Would you have listened? Odessa had died. You had lost friends and comrades trying to defeat that which could not be conquered by force of arms and will alone. You were forced to admit that the only way to end the tyranny of the Scarlet Moon Archduchy was to join forces with the army of a boy who was the son of the Toran Liberation Front's greatest enemy."

"…I suppose not," the ex-Antarian Knight admitted.

Jeanne sighed softly, "Let us talk of better things, Flik. Topics like these makes the wine taste bad."

"Agreed," Flik said, "But I have one last question before we do so."

"And that is?"

"Why did you bring me onto your ship, Jeanne? The medical bay on board the _Litany of Fury_ would have been more than sufficient to treat my wounds – even those as serious as those inflicted by Luca Blight."

The rune-mistress chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Flik's spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. She put down her wine-glass before putting both hands on the armrests of Flik's chair and leaned forward, so that the latter could get a full view of her impressive cleavage and the inferno that burned in her soul. The brown-haired Apostle Army general found himself cornered by an adversary that could not be conquered by blade, courage or strength of will.

"Are you saying that I had an ulterior motive in bringing you here, Flik?" Jeanne's lips curved in a libidinous grin as she ran one hand down Flik's forearm, relishing the feel of the firm muscles that lay beneath the sleeve of the shirt she had given him to wear and what was to come. Everything was falling into place. This was the last moves of the game. It was cute that Flik was still trying to fight the inevitable. Her grin became one a devil would be proud of when she saw the drugs she had slipped into his drink begin to take effect. Flik's eyes widened in alarm, and he fought to stand up. What was happening to him? What did Jeanne…? Why…?

"If so," the rune-mistress leaned closer and brushed her lips against his, an affectionate gesture that penetrated the drug-induced haze that was slowly carrying him into Orpheus's waiting arms, "I did. Just as Squall Leonhart found the road that led him home, I have come to show you yours. You are already mine, my dear, dear Flik. Now submit…and let me devour you…"

**X X**

_**Jeanne's Quarters, the Silver Destiny, minutes later…**_

Jeanne shivered in anticipation as she approached the bed, swirls of power spiraling around one slender arm. It had been difficult to keep her appetites under control, but the rune-mistress knew that giving in to them would destroy everything she had set out to accomplish. The silver-haired temptress enjoyed sex immensely; enjoyed the rush of life, passion and yearning. The long decades she had spent mastering every nuance of the sensuous arts would have driven the creators of Kama Sutra green with envy and men wild with desire. Yes, men had always found her irresistible. Every once in a while, though, the rune-mistress would meet a man who was seemingly immune to her charms.

Each had his own reasons for refusing what she offered, and Jeanne found it prudent to let these interesting souls go their way. She was not Morgana, the Black Rose of Betelgeuse, whose penchant for laying Geas on those who caught her eye had left every Betelgeusian rune-master and mistress from the home-world to the galactic rim outraged and whose antics had led to the feared Supreme Lord of Lordaeron petitioning the assassins of Clan Nanaya to take action. The Black Rose had attempted to bargain with the Nanaya in hopes of staying their wrath. It was a wasted effort. When that terrible, beautiful monster that lurked in the blood of that terrible bloodline shrieked in rage, not even God would dare intercede. The laws of the universe withered when the children of the White Princess swung their blades. No power in the universe wished to find what lay beyond the veil of death; none _**DARED**_.

That Flik had attracted the attention – and affection – of one of these consummate killers was a good enough reason for Jeanne to not try any of the Black Rose's tricks. Indeed, why should she? She did not want a slave or a pet. She wanted a companion – a man who would love the children he sired and the women who gave them life. She wanted someone who cared little for the wealth and influence she wielded with careless ease. She wanted a lover whose passion would match – and exceed – hers. The rune-mistress's lips curved in a libidinous grin as she remembered the warning Viktor had given her. Flik would not easily forgive the rune-mistress her trespass. He would see to it that would pay dearly for deceiving him. The silver-haired rune-mistress unhitched the fine, golden clasps that held her dress and skirt in place and allowed both to fall to floor.

But can deception not bring about a promised ending? Can great good not come about through an act of mendacity? After all, did Ky Kiske, hero of the Gear Crusades, not accomplish what he had if he had not believed what his mentor had told him? Did the founder of the Solar Empire not build an enduring legacy by believing the lie told to him by a fortune-teller he had met in his childhood years? Yes, the rune-mistress thought, there were times when great good can be born out of little evils. Flik's final fall – and the road that led to it – would be a beautiful, glorious thing that poets, priests and artists would sing and write of long after they were gone.

**X X**

Flik heard a woman's giggle in the distance. He knew that voice. All who heard it could never forget it. All who laid eyes on its source would reach for that fruit that had laid saints and angels low. It was the voice of sin and passion given flesh and form, made beautiful and without flaw, clad in revealing, diaphanous garments that accentuated curve and cleavage. Jeanne, the High Rune-mistress of Betelgeuse: the Seductive Angel, the Silver Siren, the Lilith of this era with whom countless warlords, princes and kings had lain with and whose heart and affections was a prize worth empires. Viktor's words, spoken weeks ago in jest and over a drink, now made sense.

Jeanne had been hunting him. And she had done so with an elegance and skill that would make the Isiri courtesan-assassins of the Scarlet Widows green with envy. The rune-mistress had been patient, her words and actions weaving a mesmerizing web by which the tenderness of the lie became the foundations of a truth. Flik cursed himself. He had let himself be ensnared. He had **LET** himself be entranced by the Siren's song and dance. He had allowed himself to be defeated. Why? He could almost hear his teachers' thunderous voices in his mind, their faces cold with disapproval, their shades demanding why their most promising pupil had strayed from the path that he was meant to tread. He had disgraced them once when he turned his back on the kingdom he had taken an oath to protect. He had shamed them a second time by proposing to a pagan witch whose machinations saw to an entire region of space becoming a bloody battleground. A third time by eluding and slaying the Antarian Inquisitors whose duty was to bring the errant Knights back to their respective chapter fortresses to be tried for the crimes that saw to them being cast out in the first place.

Why? The answer was simple: he wanted what Jeanne offered. The first time the rune-mistress had kissed him, it had awoken in Flik a hunger that oath and honor could not restrain. It reminded him that beyond the walls of the fortress-chapel he had raised around his heart were the things he longed for and that in order to reach them, he first had to leave the shrine that was dedicated to the one person he loved above all else. No, she would have wanted him to leave.

And the only way he could…was to reach beyond it to the devilish temptress that waited on the other side. Flik did so, and his heart soared as the female devil's elegant, gloved hand closed around his. He remembered what the chaplain in his hometown had told him in regards to giving in to temptation and what he had read from a book Jeanne had had published some thirty years ago: '_The virtuous are, by definition, the most sinful of all souls, for they judge others for the very vices they wish to partake in. All born to the mortal coil reach for completion, for the Almighty's greatest test is to make His most beloved creation search for that which can make them whole. And to succeed at this test…may ask that the aspirant fail in the very endeavor he sought to succeed in.'_

The brown-haired Apostle Army general felt his heart race as he pulled the scantily-clad, silver-haired female devil into his arms, the sensation of her warm flesh against his and her shrill cry of joy as he penetrated her, a promise of rose-colored days to come. The rebel angel pushed her lips against his, her wings pounding powerfully as she bore him gently to the soft, sun-warmed grass. It was with that sensation on his lips, and the soft command to do what he wished to her in his ears that the brown-haired general of the Apostle Army returned to reality with.

'_Do what thou wilt…and let it be all that thou wish it to be.'_

**X X**

Jeanne gasped as she took Flik into her body, the sensation almost driving the rune-mistress to the heights of ecstasy. Oh, by Bastet and Ishtar, she shouldn't have added so much of the aphrodisiac into his drink. The man beneath her clearly did not need it! The unforgiving crucible of hardship and abstinence had forged and filled her lover's body with vigor and virility, one untainted by the vices that many of Jeanne's past companions had often indulged themselves in. Not for him were the fleshpots and brothels of a hundred worlds, the gambling dens of a dozen more, or the finest wines from the cellar of a System Lord; no, he heeded the call of one who punished those who fell short of his exacting standards with an ignominious death. Indeed, the rune-mistress's now-deceased royal pupil had knelt before the same master as Flik had. But unlike the latter, the Prince of Highland had been found wanting and had had his thread cut.

The silver-haired witch gritted her teeth as she lowered herself further, her internal muscles tightening around the enormous intruder that sought entrance into her womb. What were the colors of the strands that made up Flik's thread? How many did he have? Normal men and women had up to six. Exceptional individuals had up to eight. Those born under the 108 constellations had up to ten, with the shimmering silver thread of destiny binding virtue and flaw to the Creator's grand design. It made Jeanne wonder as to what her child's thread would look like. How many strands would he or she have? What path would he or she tread? Indeed, what destiny would the Fates ordain for a child – or the children – born from the womb of the Silver Siren?

Jeanne looked forward to finding out. There was no doubt in the rune-mistress's mind that she would conceive the moment the brown-haired general filled her with his seed. The image that took shape in her mind was both enticing and erotic – especially when it took a more lascivious bent of him ravishing her. Yes, she would enjoy that. The noble knight becoming a beast driven only by its basest instincts, living only to drink deep of the chalice his morals (and its enforcers) had seen fit to deny him so as to remind him of his place in the scheme of things. Damn it, was he getting larger? Was this what Viktor meant when he told her that Flik could very well make her pay dearly for his trespass?

"You beast…" the Seductive Angel whispered, her voice heavy with lust and yearning, "Do you desire me that much? Are you trying to have me do what so many of my lovers could not?" and she placed her hands on Flik's shoulders, "Very well. I will grant you your wish."

The silver-haired, immortal witch prepared to sheath the hard, thick length completely, an act that would grant her no small amount of pain and pleasure. The monster that was at the entrance to her womb was one that devoured maidens fair and jaded, and which made slaves of them. Had Flik chosen to, he would have had numerous lovers and three times as many offspring spread across the firmament. But no, she would be the first. The witch would win that which the fair, pure princess could not. The irony was not lost on the silver-haired rune-mistress as she gazed down upon her lover. But where the fair princess would never share, the witch did not mind, for the heroic knight that rode to save the former mattered to those women who strode beside him. She smiled inwardly; there was the making of a good story to be written there. But to write it, the ending first had to be made real.

"I will bear you your child, my darling," Jeanne leaned closer, so that her lips were but inches away from Flik's, "And many, many more after the first...for you are mine, and I am yours. I choose this ending, and ask that the Fates make it so and grant you the blessing that they have withheld for so long…"

Her schemes were falling apart, but the manner in which they did was both beautiful and exhilarating. It was akin to watching snow gently falling from the sky, each speck illuminated by the moonlight. It promised everything that cannot be bought by wealth, power and decree.

"And there is much you have to learn about pleasing a woman. Lessons I am more than willing to teach and which you will no doubt enjoy…" and Jeanne closed the distance, pressing her lips to Flik's. Imagine her surprise when she suddenly found the latter kissing her back – and that said gesture was devoid of anger and hostility. Instead, it was filled with longing. By the time Flik let her up for air, the rune-mistress could feel her heart racing with excitement. It made her feel more alive than ever before; sensation and emotion alike held their respective breaths – they knew that what was to come would be beyond anything they had endured before.

"Jeanne, Silver Siren, Seductive Angel…" Flik said as he ran a hand down the stunned witch's face, even as he tightened his grip around the latter's waist, "Did you forget that I am a member of a Knightly Order? My body has been genetically modified to ensure that only the most potent poisons and drugs can lay me low. And the Lightning Rune that Odessa had given to me was further reinforced by Resurrection and Earth Rune. I am not like your other lovers. I have little tolerance for your tricks and wiles…."

"Indeed, no," Jeanne admitted, "You are not like them. It was for that reason that I decided to make you mine. Ah…!" the last word out of her lips was a strangled shriek as the brown-haired Apostle Army general pushed his phallus against her cervix.

'_Oh Ishtar, no…you can't…!'_

"…And you will pay dearly for it," the former Knight of Antares continued. Before Jeanne could say anything, Flik swung her under him and buried himself deep within the rune-mistress's body. The scream that left the rune-mistress's lip was one that would have brought the stars crashing down. It was a sound that spoke a thousand words, and which was the prelude to a child's birthing cry. It was the first blow made upon the anvil upon which the Creator forged a new soul, His eyes blazing and filled with joy and wonder at the infinite possibilities that unfolded with each hammer-strike.

And it was one that made the one other occupant in the nearby room shiver, as her lupine ears and sharp senses told her of what was taking place in the room opposite hers. A thick, reddish-brown tail tipped in silver-gold swayed sharply from side to side in excitement. But the young woman willed herself to be patient. She would have her mate in her body soon, and his infant daughters in his arms before the year was out.

And far, far away, in a mansion overlooking the Sea of Crystals on the capital-planet of the Toran Republic, a dark-haired Betelgeusian enchantress chuckled. She knew that what she had done would have consequences, but the temptation to put a good one over her silver-haired counterpart had been irresistible. She looked down at the holo-cards she had drawn for her friend, and smiled before waving one hand before the small vanity mirror before her, banishing from its reflective surface the image of the Silver Siren's sweet – and final – fall. There was no need to add insult to injury.

**X X**

Jeanne could not believe how deeply Flik had penetrated her, or how fiercely he was ravishing her. Yet, even so, there was something tender in the way he kissed her and touched her. Almost as if he was worshipping her even as he defiled her. She knew that asking him to be gentle would fall on deaf ears. Each merciless thrust bespoke of his desire to impregnate her, and each hot torrent of his seed as he filled her again and again bespoke of a newly-birthed hunger that knew no satiation.

No, it would never be sated. The lion that had been bound by the chains of duty, honor, fidelity and morality had been set free by the silver serpent who had sought, in its unparalleled foolishness, to taint all that that noble beast represented before devouring it whole. Was this what the fabled progenitor of humanity was like when he ate that which was forbidden to him? Was the taste of her lover's seed in her lips and the warmth of it searing her womb the final push that drove the beautiful serpent to rebel against her Creator?

The silver-maned witch's thoughts were derailed once more as Flik pulled himself out of her body and stood before her, his powerfully-built form caressed by the light of the stars and the admiring gaze of the enchantress. He guided her head to the erect organ between his legs, his unspoken command clear. Jeanne shivered in delight even as she obeyed. She explored the smooth round head and probed the small fissure that had delivered her lover's seed into her body as well as the texture of the skin that enfolded it, tracing the protruding veins beneath with her tongue. Flik groaned, the sound making Jeanne grin inwardly. How cute, the witch thought as she proceeded to repay her lover for his efforts.

And with her expert ministrations, it did not take Flik long to succumb. When his sight and his ability to think clearly were restored, he found his breath stolen away by the sheer erotic perfection of the woman who looked up at him with a mischievous smile as she licked her snow-coated lips clean, before proceeding to rub that which had spilt onto her breasts over the rest of her body. It was an act that set the embers of his libido ablaze once more. The outraged voices of both his conscience and his morals soon found themselves thrown back into the prison from which they had emerged only seconds before. Seeing the inferno in his eyes excited the silver-haired temptress all the more, and she took a pose that served to fan that blaze in the fallen Knight's heart into an inferno.

Truly, Jeanne thought, both Viktor and Rina had not been lying when they told her that Flik was wilder than the beast he embodied. She did not resist as Flik pushed her down towards the bed and entered her once more. She gasped as the engorged, hard length sank deep into her and into the warm and slick crucible of flesh whose walls had been thickly coated with her lover's seed. Her internal muscles clamped down tightly on his phallus, and played up and down its length like a musician on a bone flute. She giggled at the rapturous expression on Flik's face, "Viktor told me that you were a virgin, Flik. But everything you have done so far…is capable of making an Isiri courtesan forget her name. I suppose the old adage about the quiet ones being the most exciting lovers is true in more ways than one…"

"I will make sure," Flik's voice was shaky as he fought to not be overwhelmed by the sensations that were threatening to drive him over the edge, "that Viktor receives his just desserts for his role in this…"

"I will help you," Jeanne replied as she wrapped her legs and arms around Flik and pulling him closer, "But that is only if you can defeat me…"

The brown-haired Apostle Army general did not reply. Instead, he started to ram into the Silver Siren's body. The coupling, hard and ferocious on the heels of the ones prior, left Flik in a daze and Jeanne clutching him tightly. It would take the two lovers the better part of half an hour to recover. And by then, the rune-mistress set in motion the second part of her plan. She would never forget the look of shock on his face as she ordered one of her gynoid retainers to bring Nina into the room, nor the look of desire that slipped back onto his face as the young Ctarl-Ctarl woman's pheromones hit him full-force. Not even Jeanne was fully immune to its effects.

'_It is a truism in the galaxy that when a Ctarl-Ctarl sets his or her eyes on a potential mate, it is only a matter of time before the latter becomes a parent,'_ Jeanne thought as she wrapped her arms around Flik, holding him in place as Nina undid the knot of the richly-decorated cloak off her shoulders to reveal the well-endowed, athletic body beneath, _'You cannot win this war, my darling. You will not want to win. Your heart is not made of stone; it is made to love something.'_

Nina strode towards them, her eyes luminous in the darkness and her lips curved in a playful leer. Her inner thighs, the rune-mistress noted, were gleaming and slick with fluids, the source of which was clear. The little kitten had been playing with herself. And she had been playing hard, the silver-haired witch noted with approval. This was good. That would mean they could get to the main course without having the appetizers served. And Jeanne was far from sated. She kissed Flik's neck affectionately, before whispering the words she had spoken to him hours before into his ear.

"Submit, my darling, and be devoured…"

**X X X**

Jeanne knew she was dreaming. The fact that she was standing within a city on a world she had yet to arrive at, clad in the rich, low-cut, crimson and gold robes of a Betelgeusian matriarch and standing next to Leknaat (who was no doubt enjoying breakfast back in her mansion on Zaibach, the Toran Republic's capital-planet) instead of resting in her mate's arms on her ship, did much to pave the road to that particular conclusion. The silver-haired temptress studied her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was.

"We are on Procyon III's Elohim City, Jeanne," Leknaat told her friend, glancing briefly at a man, his Syreen wife and their daughters striding past, "To be more precise, we are in Albatross Bay, where the sector's new Galactic Police HQ will be relocated to from their orbiting star-fort in the near future. And fear not – no one here can see us. This is a…private audience."

"Why did you bring me here, Leknaat?" Jeanne asked after digesting what her friend had told her, before glancing around briefly. What was that sound? Where was it coming from…?

The dark-haired enchantress raised one slender arm, and pointed towards the sleek yet intimidating battleship that was slowly docking into one of the empty bays. Embossed on its armored hull was the symbol of the Galactic Police and the name its captain had given it: _Arcadia._ Powerful docking clamps emerged from the water and held the starship in place before a ramp extended from one of its airlocks to the bayside.

"We're…here to meet someone. Someone whose actions will decide how a story will end…" Leknaat followed the family and motioned to Jeanne to do the same, "Come. This is a blessing granted to a few, Jeanne. And believe me when I say that you've earned this blessing many times over for everything you have done."

Jeanne raised one eyebrow at her friend's enigmatic words, but followed her all the same, "Who is this person, Lena?"

"I think you'll know him better than I," Leknaat replied with a serene smile and nodded towards the young man who emerged from the ship with more than a dozen young women behind him. Like them, Jeanne saw that he also wore the uniform of the Galactic Police's elite Bio-Soldier Division, albeit one with the rank markings of a Tactical Commander. Brown-haired, lean and strong, with an aura of staggering power, the young officer reminded the rune-mistress of the Supreme Commander of the Church of Lordaeron. That had been an uncomfortable encounter, the witch thought. The powerfully-built, angel-winged, robed and armored Prince was a hardliner who believed that those who did not kneel before the sovereign power of the Church deserved only death. And the new Michael was all too aware – and who disapproved – of the relationship Jeanne had had with his predecessor, a big-hearted man who loved life and war in equal measure and whose warriors would sooner die than let their King fight alone.

But this encounter was both uncomfortable and comforting at the same time. There was something about the young GP officer that Jeanne found familiar. Try as she might, for all her wisdom and knowledge, the silver-haired immortal found the answer out of her reach. It was only when he came closer did she realize who he was. It was impossible, and yet, it was the only answer that made sense. His features, the invisible sigils on his face that bled power into a Creation that knew his name, the ancient relic blade he held in his right hand – it told her who he was. The hand of Skuld, Norn of the Future, rested on hers; a tender touch that spoke a thousand words and which stole her breath away and made her soul weep in joy.

The sound she had been hearing at the edge of her senses had been a heart-beat – a sound that bespoke of courage, hard-won pride, pain and defiance.

It was the sound of her son's heart – and it beat for those who were precious to him.

_**Fin.**_

_**Author's Afterword:**_

Okay, now you have my permission to draw the knives, swords and guns. But before you proceed to skin me alive and reduce me to road-kill, my last words (or questions, as the case might be): Did I set the temperature of the story right? Did it flow well? And is a second draft advisable? Thanks.

**Annotations:**

1) IGNN – Inter-Galactic News Network. No different from CNN and BBC of our current era. Really, did you expect things to change even when we move into space? Or that the aliens would be any different?

2) Fort Tiamat – This was the (fictional) stronghold I decided to create where Flik (in Suikoiden 1) met up with Tir McDohl after his failed attempt to defeat the Scarlet Moon Empire (or Archduchy, in this story).


End file.
